


Avengers Drama

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Doctor Who, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crack Crossover, Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover fic between Torchwood, with a Doctor Who character, and the Avengers. </p><p>The introduction of two new members of the Avengers Initiative produces high school-level drama!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Centurion

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I need to give a little bit of background information for this fic. 
> 
> The portrayal of Rory and Captain Jack are based off of an RP between me and a friend of mine, in which Rory is no longer with Amy. On his way to Amy's house one day, Rory was sucked up into a Rift storm, and actually ended up back in Ancient Rome. Where he became a Centurion for a few years, before a second Rift storm brought him to Cardiff, and Torchwood, where he began to work. 
> 
> This story takes place after he has worked at Torchwood.
> 
> Also: This story is mostly for comedy and foolishness, so a few of the characters will be OOC. Please don't flame me if you don't like my portrayal of them. It's meant to be funny/silly.

"Sir .. I'm afraid I don't understand. It is not SHIELD policy to accept any affiliated members ... and the file on both of these are .. well, I can't think of anything that wouldn't be offensive without simply saying off the wall. Can the claims in either file even be substantiated!?" The suited man with wide, pained eyes glances at his boss, a black man in a sleek suit with an out of place eye patch across one eye. It didn't take too long to get used to the patch, simply because there was no alternative; the only one that Agent Johnson had seen openly say something about the eye patch had been gone within the hour. 

Nick Fury, the man that has recruited the many different members of the Avengers project, turns to look at the younger man with a weary smirk. 

"The Immortal and the Last Centurion .. tell me, if even half of their file is true, how could we afford to turn them away?" There is a hint of amusement in the words, Agent Fury turning to look down at the nondescript white file folder in his hand, which is open to the picture of a handsome man in his late 30's with a bright smirk and teasing steel blues. 

"Sir .. forgive me for saying, but ... I don't think the team are ready for these two."

Fury barks with cool laughter. It was time to shake things up a bit. He wasn't joking or overstating that they couldn't afford to pass up on the two men; the rest of the team would either adapt or .. well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

Rory, aka the Last Centurion, is a down-to-Earth man who has spent the last year of his life readjusting to the 2000's. 18 years in the Roman empire circa Julius Caesar seemed a world apart from the fast cars, every changing phones and slimming of computers that seemed to surround him. He can vaguely remember his time in Leadworth, the town of his birth, but it is mostly foggy images of a harpy redhead and a grandmother that he misses terribly. The only thing that still seems as sharp as ever, is the medical knowledge he had put to good use over the last year in his place of employment. 

But all of that had come to an end when he found himself suddenly without a job, trying to decide what direction his life should head in. It was at that moment that he found himself approached by Fury and offered a job in a new superhero division. He had laughed, outright -laughed- when he was asked to join a band of superheroes. Him, plain old nurse Rory .. the member of a squad of superheroes!? What would he be, their mascot?? But, he did it .. he took the job, agreed to be both a fighter and a field medic for the team. Fury told him, up front, that he would see as much action as he would wounds. 

What else was he going to do? He had thought it over, and just couldn't see himself able to return to a 'normal' life after everything that he had seen. So, he took the offer.

He stops, looking at the lobby of the building that would act as the current headquarters. It seemed so .. normal. Stark white lab and infirmary below, office buildings above, even a basic cafeteria. It was nothing like the last place, which looked a little like a steampunk brochure had exploded. Though, he misses the guard bird, so much. 

The Last Centurion settles at the small desk in the medlab, eyes squinting slightly at the meager contents stacked in different areas. Medical files had been amassed, his on the very top, which makes him laugh a little. Since he already knows what's in it, he pushes it to the side, looking down at the next one. He recognizes the name of course; Jack. He barely manages to hold a cool smir at bay as he yanks it open. The first time he had gotten the chance to look at -- what the hell!? He yanks the single sheet of paper out that has a single line written on it in ornate, mocking calligraphy; Dream on, soldier-boy!

The smirk becomes an angry frown; thwarted again! The jackass isn't even in -charge- here and had found a way to keep Rory from getting a look at him medically. The file folder flies across the room, landing open on the floor as the nurse yanks the next one open. Thor; Asgardian. Godling. Rory doesn't even bat an eyelash as he begins to read through the different files. He had come across the likes of them more than once; this would simply be another job, in another town. Business as usual.

The only file that stops and makes him take pause is Captain America's; Steve Rogers. His eyes narrow after he reads for a few minutes, groaning softly to himself. Steve mixed with everyone else, and Captain Jack thrown into the mix? 

".. these people will never survive him."

Rory sighs the words, shoving the file closed.


	2. The Immortal

Rory glances around the room for a long, slow moment. He recognized everyone, of course; kind of hard not to when some of them were so .. outlandish. Thor with his battle armor even when there is no battle, Tony Stark in suits that would cost all of Rory's wages from his last job. The moody stand alone that seemed a moment from losing his cool would be Bruce, and deity help him, the one that catches his attention the most .. Steve Rogers, Captain America. The strength and in charge attitude he exudes reminds Rory of someone .. someone that brings the barest hint of a blush to his cheeks as he tries to look away. The impeccable hair and confidence really didn't help the blush, either!

"Excuse me .. am, am I the only one confused as to why the glorified nurse is coming with us?"

Tony Stark's condescending words cut through the room. Long gone were the days where Rory would've stayed in the background, silent and timid when confronted by an obviously powerful man like Tony Stark, Iron Man. Long gone were the days where he did not earn and deserve respect. His reaction times had improved with his time in Rome, and even more so once he came back to his time. His hand has wrapped around the Black Widow's handgun and drawn it from her holster before she can register the fact that someone is reaching for her weapon. A few seconds after that, and everyone looks on in shock as three shots ring out, bullets embedding in the wall beside each of Tony's ears, and right above his head. Rory tosses the gun to the Black Widow, who catches it with a mix of anger and awe. Rory turns back to his original destination. 

"Now, if there are no more stupid questions, I believe we have work to do?"

Rory glances around after speaking, his frown increasing.

"... aren't we missing someone?"

He controls his voice, barely managing to keep the anger and annoyance out of his words. Where the hell was Jack!? The pompous prat should've been here yesterday, damn it! On the outside, he keeps a cool exterior, while cursing and grumbling inwardly. Leave it to the prat of all prats to show up late for helping to save the world! 

"The Captain will be joining us a little later."

Fury smirks, watching Rory's reaction. He had wondered how the Centurion would react to the Captain being late, and he gets no end of amusement from watching him try to school every expression. Yes, this would be interesting indeed.

* * *

Again, Rory finds himself mostly unimpressed when they arrive at Staten Island, and find a small group of strange, tall blue creatures tearing up the place. After one has ridden on the back of a Pterodactyl to save a colleague, or tirelessly climbed 7000 steps to ask a favor of a Godling .. all of this is just another day, another fight, another job. It's not that he's jaded, it's that he's seen a lot in his short time. Well, Jack would call it short .. Rory would call it 2000 years of different forms of hell. 

"Watch your flank!"

The Leadworth native hollers in agitation, frowning as he watches Captain America glare at him for daring to give an order. He had read Steve's file, and if the American prat wanted to believe it or not, Rory had commanded 50 times more men than Steve ever had, and knew what he was talking about! As if to illustrate his point, Captain America finds himself hit in the side with a large sledgehammer, the sound of ribs cracking almost thunderous. Rory shakes his head and darts in, catching the man around the waist and shoulder before he falls to the ground. 

He scuttles away as quick and careful as he can, laying the semi-conscious superhero on the ground where Hawkeye is already curled up, face busted up in several places. Rory's gaze snaps to the battlefield. There was one bad guy left that they knew of, Stark still off somewhere in his flying tin can, supposedly dispatching another of the creatures. 

Thor was the only one still active at the moment, but no sooner does Rory blink than he sees the Godling fall in a spray of blood and Nordic curses. Rory steels himself, trying to decide which decision to make; go for Thor and get him off the battlefield, or go for the last creature and try and take it down, try to prevent it from getting out, into the world and killing innocents. His mind is easily made up; protect the innocent. He begins to stand, making it to a half crouch before he feels a pressure on his shoulder. He glances back and falls flat on his arse as he looks up into a pair of mesmerizing steel blues. 

"I got this, soldier. Sorry I'm late .. miss me?"

The Pseudo-American accent sends a shiver down Rory's spine, his own eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the suave 'American' man saunter toward the field of battle. 

"Yeah .. but my aim has improved!"

Rory snaps after the man who waltzes toward Thor, grabbing him around his midriff and lifting him with ease with an arm around his shoulders. He turns and carries the lumbersome Godling to the pile of injured superheroes, barely managing not to shake his head and scoff. 

"Here, soldier-boy .. I think Goldilocks needs some help, too. Gonna borrow Mjöllnir, if you don't mind."

Jack tosses Thor a dimpled, glowing smile, the Godling trying to scoff, but ending up in a bloodied, gurgled coughing fit instead. 

"That is Mjöllnir, hammer of Thor .. you could never lift it, human."

Rory groans softly, reaching up to smack his hand across his own forehead. 

"Really shouldn't've said that, man. He loves a challenge."

Rory's words are soft and punched, and Jack lets out a thunderous laugh as he turns, darting forward with a quick burst of speed. His nimble hands wrap around the hilt of Mjöllnir, and while he could not wield it singlehandedly, he lifts it with ease, bringing in an upward swing that connects easily with the large creature's gaping maw. A sickening thud is heard as the mythical hammer connects, the creature letting out a screech. Jack dodges a massive claw, feeling it rake across his back, tearing into his greatcoat and tearing open the skin beneath. 

"... never tear up the coat."

Rory groans those words as well, shaking his head. At that point, the fights over and he knows it. So, he turns back to begin cleaning Thor's face, the Godling looking on with an awed expression Rory had seen on many a face. He just shakes his head and continues working. If he continues patching the idiotic God up, then he won't be tempted to look over his shoulder and see what the hell is happening behind him ... won't be tempted to see how Jack is fairing. 

The Captain's eyes narrow, fingers touching the top of his back, feeling the shredded fabric and skin. 

"Oh, hell no .."

He growls, fingers gripping Mjöllnir tightly. He braces his feet on the ground, one in front of the other, muscles tight and flexed. 3 .... 2 ........ 1! Mjöllnir arches through the air, catching the creature square on the jaw. Rory flinches at the sickening thud as the creature flies through the air, smacking into the side of a building, the creature's neck broken as it bleeds out as well. Jack snickers when he notices the Iron Man robot having to boost forward to avoid the creature, Jack putting his hand up to his mouth to amplify his smooth, American accented voice.

"FORE!!"

Rory can't help himself, he snickers beneath his breath before going stoic again. 

"Oi! Get over here and help."

He snaps at Jack, who turns and walks over, tossing Mjöllnir to Thor who catches it easily. 

"Yeah yeah, just admit that you missed me already, soldier-boy, and we can get the pleasantries over with."

"... like I said already, Captain .. my aim has improved."

Jack winks at the nurse and then turns to help Captain America to his feet, that dimpled, sultry smirk appearing on Jack's features.

"Captain Jack .. and who might you be?"

Captain America splutters, trying to remember his name, and Rory grits his teeth.

"Stop it."

He growls, Jack bursting out into laughter before he continues helping the superhero.


	3. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Norse words are translated in the ( ) after each word.

"Would you -please- sit still? If you don't, I will mess up this stitch .. if you make me mess up this stitch, I will become angry .. and you will end up with a scar that looks like a tutu .. or something equally appalling." Rory's voice is bathed in clipped anger and weariness, though the day is still relatively early. The 'action' of earlier is still fresh in the minds and on the bodies of those that had been involved, but Rory finds that his mind is more preoccupied than it should be at the moment. 

As if on cue, as if the arrogant twit -knows- that Rory is thinking about him, the infirmary doors come swinging open, Captain Jackass himself! And not the -real-American one. Rory's hands tighten for a moment on the clamp in his hands before he carefully relaxes. 

"Now is not the time Cap-" Rory's words are immediately eclipsed by the large Asgardian Godling literally perking up at the arrival of Captain Jack. 

"Captain! A mighty battle fought today! Surely you will allow me to take you for a celebratory drink? We will have much ale and find some hearty wenches." Rory snorts at those words before openly scowling at Thor's arm, where he's currently working, because Jack doesn't immediately answer. 

Jack had, of course, heard Thor, but the answer would have to wait. It's time to play his favorite game first; Poke the Ex-Centurion's Nerves and Then Run Like Hell. The game always seemed to make things interesting at the end of the day. 

"What's up, Doc?" Jack manages to fire the cheesy question off in a single breath and ignore Rory in the very next in favor of walking over to Thor and pounding him heartily on the back, the Godling lighting up happily. 

"An attractive invitation, Thor, for more than one reason. I am honored. But, no can do, _minn dróttinn_. (My Lord) I have other plans tonight .. with my own _Hilmir_ (King) this night."

It is almost adorable, the way Thor almost completely shuts down. The way the happiness seems to drain from him, a pout pursing his lips as he prepares to have a mighty tantrum for being rejected. Rory pulls a stitch then, causing Thor to swear and glare at him. 

"Sorry." The nurse murmurs lightly, the distraction working to keep Thor from getting too angry. Thor glares at Rory for a moment, before shifting his attention back toward Jack.

"I took you to be the type that serves no King, Captain .. am I so wrong?" By the tone in Thor's voice, he sounds almost like a child about to lose his hero worship. Jack gives out another laugh, once again thumps Thor on the back in hearty friendship. 

"You are right, after a fashion. I serve no king, Thor .. my _Hilmir_ is far more to me than that. My _Hilmir_ .. is also my .. _hjarta_ (heart) ... _hugr_. (Spirit)" Jack's cheeks erupt with a mild blush as he says this, and Rory finds that he -really- wishes he understood what the hell the two of them were talking about. His teeth grit harder and he begins to change his stitch pattern. 

"But, you are _dæll_?? ('soft') That .. cannot be!" Thor looks surprised, so shocked in fact, that his eyes look almost blank ... as if something has short-circuited in his mind. Jack's smile hardens, and he shifts so that his hip is leaning against the chair that Thor is in, barely managing not to lash out at the Godling. 

"I am anything but .. soft ... saw that for yourself, today. I am not .. _dæll_ ... I am .. _hníga ástir, búnaðr meg neiss_!! (open to love, equipment be damned) Thor frowns, and yet, it is not at what Jack says, but rather, at himself. He finds a preconceived notion being bitchslapped right in front of him, head suddenly bobbing slowly in understanding. 

"This is something I must speak to Odin about. Thank you, _Hilmir_ Jack." With that, Thor looks down impatiently at Rory, who cuts the excess stitch, Jack glancing down at the now sealed wound with a dark smirk and a quirked brow. Once Rory nods, Thor turns and walks quickly from the room, leaving Rory glaring after him. The moment Thor is gone, Jack bursts into laughter, turning his dancing gaze on the human nurse. 

"Really?? You turned his stitches into a big ol' heart with a -J- in it?! That's going to be one hell of a scar." Rory continues to glare where Thor exited, before turning his dark, unreadable gaze on Jack. 

"Well, I -did- warn him .. and it's not likely that he will notice anytime soon. But I thought it fitting .. with the way he was practically drooling after you, Captain. By the end of the week, he will have changed the laws on his homeworld and proposed .. just like on Ashia." There is a hint of amusement in Rory's voice, and Jack actually groans. 

"Ok, that was -not- my fault! How the hell was I supposed to know that shaking a man's hand was a marriage proposal??" Jack whines softly, his cheeks filling with heat when Rory lifts a hand to try and laugh behind it. The Captain turns, stalking out of the infirmary as well. 

"Me 1 .. Captain Jackass 0." Rory's amused words follow after him, before he turns to begin cleaning his instruments.


	4. The Fan Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything appearing in [ ] is a foreign language.  
> Anything appearing in ( ) is the basic translation  
> Also, for those who don't know ... libenter hoc facio is an oath soldiers once took in Rome.

Two hours after the incident with Thor, and Rory is ready for the day to end. Two silent run-ins with Jack had left the nurse feeling washed out and annoyed. It was true, that old saying .. some people really just shouldn't work together. You'd think they would've learned their lesson at Torchwood, but sometimes .. it just can't be helped. Mistakes are made again and again. 

He glances down at the file folder in his hands, brows knitted in a furrow at the center that had caught the attention of more than one person through the years. The words 'cute when concentrating' had been used a few times, though usually not directly to his face. That crinkle deepens, causing a few 'laugh lines' to crease the corners of his eyes as well. Honestly, any creature that was tagged 'The Hulk' had Rory at least a little bit concerned. He would -not- say the words worried or scared. Because, even after all of this time, he refuses to appear weak. REFUSES!! 

His fingers crumple the folder, a fair wince across his handsome features. Heaving a heavy sigh, he carefully straightens the folder out as best he can before glancing around the infirmary. From there, it's a glance at the pocket watch tucked into his jeans pocket, slipping it out almost reverently. It's silver, very, very old. The front had been inscribed with the words 'libenter hoc facio.' The inside inscribed with 'I do this gladly, freely, willingly, with pleasure.'

He squints down at the watch, sighing. It was almost 1. He had been told to eat when he could, a habit he was used to from both Rome and Torchwood, and now seemed as good a time as any. He shoves the watch back in, carefully removing his smock and hanging it up. He feels a little under dressed with out it, sporting a simple pair of jeans and a soft, light blue tee shirt. His fingers stroke lightly over the side of the material, unconsciously smoothing it in an effort to appear more 'presentable.' Not that he's a slouch or anything! But he can't help it .. with Captain Charisma on the premises, he has to try a little harder. So, off to the cafeteria. 

The Ex-Centurion, Ex-Torchwood Field Agent, and current SHIELD Field Agent/Medic finds himself hesitating outside the double doors that lead into the Caf, where his colleagues and complete strangers are currently feeding. Yes, feeding, because after some of the things he had seen today, he can't help but picture half of them as ill-mannered beasts and creatures that have been put on this Earth to make saving it a chore, rather than the simple, clean cut operation he is used to it being. 

He inhales deeply, silently, features sliding into the same unreadable mask he once wore before heading into the chow tent with his Cohort of men in Rome. Hmm .. at least it's only about half as bad as the old days. As with any large group, they had broken off into smaller cliques, and Rory groans softly, under his breath. He had never been good at cliques, especially not in High School. It had always been him, Amy, and Mel ... and that was pretty much it. It had been a matter of convenience for Amy, worship for Rory, and boredom for Mel .. not exactly the makings of a good friend group or anything. He quickly shoves the bitter feelings down, quietly scolding himself because he is -so- over it!

For the most part, the division is understandable; the black-suit agents in one area, the white-coats in another. Surprisingly, the biggest group is a mishmash of people standing in an almost perfect circle, and Rory groans inwardly. He can, unfortunately, picture who exactly is sitting in the -middle- of that adoring fan club. He tenses, feeling that familiar tug at the center of his back that makes him stand a little straighter, loosen his shoulders a little more .. so that he can try to cling to some sense of grace and quiet indifference as he turns to head toward the chowline. As if Jack would make it -that- easy on him!

"Oi, soldier-boy! You're late!"

The American accent seems thicker than usual, and Rory almost grinds his teeth together. 

"They stopped serving fifteen minutes ago .. come on. I saved you some."

Rory can't help it .. he smiles, though he makes sure that his head is turned and Jack can't see it. Rory 1 ... Jack 1. He begrudgingly admits that to himself as he trudges toward the adoring fan club. And of course, Jack has placed the tray right next to him, leaving Rory little choice as to where he will sit. Jack glances at a pretty red-haired white coat, a brow raised in silent command and she nearly jumps up out of the seat, clearing it for Rory, who takes it with a slight smile to her before she disappears into the adoring crowd. Rory folds himself onto the seat, wishing that he could take the tray and run, eat in the infirmary or something so that he doesn't have to deal with everyone fawning over the Captain, who for the most part, barely even seems to realize it's happening. That's one of the things that irks the Ex-Centurion .. Jack doesn't even -realize- that these people are so stuck on him they can barely function with him sitting there. Doesn't realize that over half of them are probably contriving ways to try and seduce him. 

"Thank you, Captain."

He mutters softly, refusing to say any more than he has to at this point, not really wanting to give the fan club any ammunition they may need to try and pick apart every nuance of interaction between himself and the Captain .. though he knows they are probably already doing it. They couldn't help themselves .. the rumor mill had probably already begun to run rampant over the fact that the two seemed to know each other, though Rory has to smile inwardly. If anyone had bothered to read the debriefing on their arrival, they'd have one hell of a simple, overwhelming insight into the two. The strange give-and-take dynamic that defined them. Had for several years now. 

" [ Nihil est, ] soldier-boy. " (It is nothing.) 

The Captain drawls the Latin out in that silken tone of his, and Rory feels his fingers tightening around the fork he's holding .. which he immediately uses to stab a piece of pasta with. Now is -not- the time for Jack to be showing off his language skills! 

" [ Quidquid .. ] " (Whatever.)

Rory snaps back smoothly, and going against his every instinct, peeks out from under his tawny lashes at the Captain .. and is not that surprised to see a mixture of amusement and challenge shining back from steel blues. He stabs more pasta and drops his gaze to begin silently eating. 

"Why do you call him that, Mr. Harkness?"

Rory winces when the word -mister- is used by one of the starry-eyed young women in a white lab coat, and waits for the inevitable correction to .. what was her name? Sandy? Blossom? Something ridiculous, flowery and far too .. American. He blinks languidly when Jack merely chuckles, Rory's gaze snapping back up against his will, to find Jack staring at him with that same mixed expression. 

"Because, underneath his pretty white smock, he's a warrior and a soldier .. the Last Centurion."

The way Jack says the words warrior, soldier, and Last Centurion sends a blush creeping up Rory's cheeks, and he feels the metal of the fork beginning to bend in his hand a little bit. He -really- doesn't need to be sitting here, listening to Jack extol his good traits to a bunch of strangers that mean nothing to Rory in the grand scheme of things. He has nothing against anyone here, but neither does he particularly want to listen to Jack speak about him as if he's not sitting right there. 

"That's such a weird title .. Last Centurion? Not to mention so outdated. And scrawny really doesn't do it for me." 

The words are blurted out by a woman in a business suit, and Rory's head snaps up, gaze staring daggers at her. He glances from the corner of his eyes and sees the same flash of anger in Jack's gaze, and Rory's stomach does a bit of a back flip. 

"I really don't remember -anyone- asking what does what for you, miss, so you'll forgive me for not giving a damn when you voice an unwanted opinion."

Rory lifts his glass of tea to give himself something to smirk into as Jack so softly, almost -sweetly- tears into the woman. 

"And you're right .. it is rather outdated. What, with the lack of loyalty, strength, vision, and strategic wisdom found in most pretentious idiots calling themselves Agencies these days .. it doesn't surprise me that the concept is too hard for your inadequate brain to comprehend."

The words are verbal venom, even though Jack never once raises his voice, or even makes a show of telling her off. She goes scarlet in the face, unable to find the words to rebut what the Captain has just said. The others at the table quickly look to Jack with awe and hero worship and have already begun to turn their backs on the one that dared rankle Jack that way, though the Captain isn't paying attention to the way the others are acting. He's now staring silently at the woman, who finally just huffs in anger and stands, stomping away from the table, muttering to herself. Rory feels that familiar little double beat of his heart and he stuffs it down. 

"Thank you for lunch, Captain."

He murmurs stiffly before he picks up his plate and walks away from the table. And if Jack feels the gentle touch of Rory's fingers across his shoulderblade, he doesn't acknowledge it, and that brings a little bit of a smile to Rory's features as he heads out of the Cafeteria. Jack 2 .. Rory 1. For now, he can live with that.


	5. The Hulk

Lunch, as annoying and strange as it had been, was only a minor reprieve from the next task Rory knows he must perform. He picks up the file titled "Hulk/Bruce Banner" and for the first time since his arrival, he finds himself somewhat worried. It's not that he's really worried about the Hulk hurting him or anything of that nature .. he's just not in the mood for a complication at this point.

He yanks his glasses off, an accessory he had gotten into the habit of wearing while at Torchwood. There had been a comment made about how 'cute' he looked in the 'sexy specs,' so he had decided to keep them. Even he needed compliments every now and then. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sliding the glasses carefully into his smock pocket, frowning. With one last glance at the file, he tosses it on the counter that is somewhat cluttered with bins of tongue depressors, boxes of gloves, and other miscellaneous tools of his profession. While technically just a nurse, he is intrigued to find that he has been given a sort of free reign around here that makes him think of his time at Torchwood.

"The Hulk .. aka Bruce Banner .."

Rory murmurs the words as nothing more than a means of grounding himself in what he's supposed to be doing. He's a little annoyed with himself when he realizes that the situation at lunch is still bothering him a bit. 

"That's Dr. Bruce Banner."

The barely controlled voice seems to materialize nowhere from behind Rory, and yet, it doesn't catch him off guard at all. Even though the man known as the Hulk is currently nothing more than the 'normal' human side of the strange superhero, Rory had heard him the moment he entered the exam room. After all, when one worked in a strange, subterranean agency that was also home to a pterodactyl guard bird, one learned to discern sounds that did not belong rather quickly. He turns away from the counter, leaning back against it lightly as he looks at the strange scientist across from him. Some part of his mind struggles a bit with the almost short circuit caused by looking at the mild mannered man in simple clothing and glasses, and accepting the fact that a few hours ago, he was a huge, green monster capable of kicking the ass of a creature 4 times it's hulking size. And yet, even with that slight disconnect, there's no fear or wariness in the nurse. He has seen worse, though many probably wouldn't believe it. 

"Doctor. Right .." 

He murmurs the words lightly, rubbing his hand across his face for a moment. It's then that he sees the armed guard standing behind the scientist. Rory quirks a brow in confusion, seeing as they are both holding high powered tranq guns that are trained on the scientist. Almost as if he were under arrest rather than here for a check up. 

"Excuse me, but there are no weapons in my exam room, gentlemen. Kindly leave." 

The two guards exchange looks that are far too patronizing for Rory's tastes. He can almost -hear- the thought exchanged between them; we should educate the new guy. When they turn back toward him and he sees one of them about to speak, his usually soft, open features harden into a no-nonsense look that surprises both guards, and even the scientist. 

"You misheard me, I think .. I wasn't offering a choice, gentlemen. Leave now, and take your weapons with you ... this is the end of me being kind about it." 

He turns then, beginning to grab a few things he knows he will need to look the Hulk over. When he doesn't hear movement, he sighs silently and decides to give them one last chance. 

"One way or another, gentlemen .. you and your weapons are leaving this room ... and I will take no responsibility for your stupidity." 

There's something in his voice that finally seems to snap the two gentlemen into action. There had been a note of weariness in Rory's words, but it was more than that. There was a hint of age and capability there that didn't really seem to balance out with the look of him, and both guards decided that they would rather not chance it, sticking with the 'better safe than sorry' route at this point. Rory turns back to what he had been doing, not bothering to watch the guards leave.

"Terrorizing the natives already, soldier boy?"

The saccharine voice immediately rubs Rory the wrong way, the nurse having to take a deep breath for fear that he will tear into the other man for no particular reason. Well, beyond the fact that it's the first day of work and the flirtatious Captain already has Rory on edge. It reminds him of his first day at Torchwood, actually, when Owen and Gwen seemed to be playing a game of tag team trying to keep him off balance and disoriented. Why, he had never quite figured out. Though, after having been around the two for a bit, he's not really that surprised by any of their behavior.

"Not in the least, Mr. Harkness. Simply pointing out that I don't allow guns in here. Which means it would be advisable for you to leave as well." The younger man points this out lightly as he yanks Banner's file back up, trying to make himself concentrate on the business at hand. He glances over his shoulder, seeing the dark look on Jack's features at the way Rory had addressed him. Good .. Jack 2, Rory 2. Another strange step in their silly little game. 

"Hmm." The soft, smooth sound coming from behind him really should've been his first clue that something was about to happen. That the Captain was up to something. The sudden blanket of heat behind him captures his attention immediately as Jack pins him against the counter front without actually touching him. Rory inhales deeply, his hands clasping the folder hard enough that he's about a second from shredding the thing. In fact, he forces himself to let the folder fall to the counter top a few moments before Jack is speaking. Yes, the Captain had a way of captivating someone when speaking, but feeling each word across his ear and neck is even worse. 

"Well, if it's just a matter of getting your hand on my gun, soldier-boy .." Jack's words are like fire and ice all at once. And for one moment, Rory really isn't sure how he wants to react. He barely manages to turn his head enough to watch Jack push his old style revolver across the counter and let it go. Not that it matters, because in the very next moment, Jack's hand has passed almost teasingly along Rory's side, and no matter how stoic the younger man has learned to be, he can't hide the little shiver that goes down his spine. Jack pulls back, reaches up to push his bangs out of his eyes, and turns to breeze from the room. 

"Sorry for interrupting, Dr. Banner." Jack calls out as he leaves the room. Where Rory views this as nothing more than another one of Jack's silly games, Banner had seen it from a completely different angle. Despite the fact that he can turn into a giant, green, hulking beast .. sometimes, it's rather easy for him to blend into the background. This had been one of those moments. He had seen Jack enter before anyone else had ... had seen the man blanch at the fact that Rory was telling the armed guard to leave. At least the Captain had a healthy sense of concern where the Hulk is involved. 

He had watched, quietly, as Jack surrendered the gun .. and he had seen the act for what it was, even if Rory hadn't. The Captain had given the man a way to defend himself if something went wrong. So, when Jack bids him farewell, Bruce waves at him with a knowing little smile. He then turns his attention toward Rory, watching him for a moment. 

"You know, Mr. Williams .. I have a feeling I could learn a hell of a lot about emotional control from you. Because, I mean .. I'm straight and everything, but I think even -I'd- be rattled after having him that close. You must have nerves of steel or something, buddy." Rory blinks, turning to look at the other man, having foolishly forgotten that he was even there after all of that. He feels like a complete idiot for letting the Captain get to him. 

"I've worked with him for over a year .. I learned to ignore a lot when I needed to. Now, let's see about getting started, Dr. Banner." Rory offers a faint smile, his mind only partially on his business at the moment. Jack ... too many to count with that little move .. Rory .. -1 ... epic fail.


	6. Boss Man

I am not running. Those four little words have become a looped sequence in Rory Williams' brain, churning away over and over until he doesn't even have to concentrate to know that they're still repeating on a seemingly endless cycle. He is not running away. He would place his hand on a bible and swear to that fact! Hell, he'd put his hand on the damn -Hippocratic Oath- and swear to it. And at least, to himself, it would in no way be a lie. Because he really doesn't look at it as running. He looks at it as .. making a swift exit from the med labs to save his own sanity. After putting up with the droll, slow pace of working on Dr. Banner, since the smallest injury could send the man into a total melt down that created a large, green superman, Rory is snappy, tired, and -really- not in the mood to deal with anyone. In fact, the though to dealing is soooo not possible at the moment, even if he were willing to -try- and deal with something. 

He stuffs every last bit of emotion deep down inside, and continues his swift walk through HQ. If nothing else, he -definitely- has to thank Jack for that, at least. After watching the Captain swagger around Cardiff for a year with that high and mighty, I run everything always, you can't touch me attitude, Rory had picked up a thing or two. Like, move quick, with a determined look on your face, and walk as if you -own- the place, and most people will get out of your way real quick. Those who aren't smart enough to, are usually easy to breeze right on past, so it doesn't matter in the end. You are usually left to your own devices, so to speak. No one challenges you, bugs you, or in any way tries to get your attention. 

As long as you're Captain Jack Harkness, apparently, and not just lowly Rory Williams! Because the moment Rory is within sight of the door that would lead him out for some fresh air, he can feel this sort of tingle down his back. It would've been Spidey Sense, if you know, he had anything like that. Instead, it's a soldier's intuition. He stops dead in his tracks and turns on a dime .. his back goes rigid and stiff, and he stands at attention. Fury stops in surprise, having expected to have to tap Rory on the shoulder or something. He draws up short, features unreadable even though he cracks a little bit of a smile for the younger man. 

"Rory, there you are. I was looking for you down in the med labs, and they said you were headed up here. I'm glad I caught you before you headed out for a bit. You're gonna have to postpone your break. I need you to handle a rather .. delicate matter for me." Rory doesn't speak, just gives a curt nod of his head, awaiting orders. Fury finds it comical in a sense .. Captain America had become thought of as the quintessential Soldier in all of this, but Fury could see some of the same quality in their medic. More so, in some areas, actually. Not that he'd ever say anything like that. 

Fury reaches out in front of him, indicating for Rory to start walking. The man about faces on a dime and takes off at a steady walk, Fury leading him toward his office. Once inside, with the door closed, Fury would motion for Rory to sit, which of course, he does. Fury takes his place behind the desk, picking up a folder that had been sitting square in the middle of the desk, all alone. Obviously important. 

"Now. Is it correct that you were briefed on the big battle that brought the Avenger's Initiative together?" Rory gives another curt nod, sitting straight and tall in the chair, listening. If this was a favor from the man that is basically his Boss, it had to be big. But for the life of him, Rory can't understand why the man would come to -him-, one of the two new guys on the block, so to speak, and ask for his help. That intimidated him a little, though he'd never admit it. 

"Good. Now, I won't waste time asking if your file is real, Mr. Williams. We have mutants, men in metal suits, and space alien gods on this time ... not to mention a man that I know, for a fact, cannot or will not, stay dead. So, the fact that your file says you've been back and forth through time ... I don't doubt it. It says that you were a Roman Legionnaire .. worked your way up to Centurion, and eventually, all the way to Tribune before you came back to this time. Correct?" Another curt, to the point nod from Rory. 

"Then, I'm going to be a bit .. blunt. You had to do many unsavory things to survive in Caesar's service. You had to let the man use your mind and body as his weapon, and it couldn't have been easy. You also managed to come -back- from something that horrible, joined a team that saved the world just as surely as the Avengers have .. encountered a lot of horrible things, even had an alien entity invade you for a bit ... you know what it's like to be used and unable to help it." Rory doesn't flinch .. outwardly. But inside .. he flinches, winces, and is doing everything in his power to keep his cool and NOT think about that time in his life. A man can only be pushed so far, even when knowing that the killing of the one that is pushing you so bad would wipe out time as you know it ... he had come close to killing the son of a bitch for all the bad he had done. History was FAR too kind to that man. 

And his time at Torchwood .. he doesn't want to get his thoughts started on any of THAT.

"This file is .. -very- confidential. While it's true that the team know what the individual has been through, I would rather it not be openly discussed. I know that this isn't your job ... that it's -nowhere- in the realm of what you're supposed to do .. but please. Take all the time you need." Fury carefully slides the folder over to him before standing up to leave the room .. leaving Rory to look through the file. Hunkering down with a deep breath, Rory dives into the thing, trying to understand why Fury thought he'd be the best man to handle the situation. 

An hour and a half later, Rory had read the file through twice, and then just ... stared at it. The contents really weren't that surprising if Rory compared it to the day to day happenings he had experienced in Torchwood .. he had seen something very similar, in fact. One of the young women that had joined the team in their last few months before closing down, had been infected by a strange sort of alien plant spore that had taken her over .. that had controlled her and no matter how she fought, she couldn't get away. Rory had experienced it as well ... for the few short minutes before the creature was destroyed. Apparently, there was something about going through the Rift that had changed him. The plant creature got a hold, and then ... just withered and died. Jack had said Rory was too strong for it ... Rory had assumed that was just Jack trying to make him feel better, rather than feel like some kind of freak or something. Unfortunately, working for Torchwood could make one feel lower than dirt and way too different, far too often. 

It had always left Rory wondering -why- Jack would subject himself to that kind of thing, of his own free will, for so damn long. Jack had practically lived and breathe Torchwood for so long now ... it also made Rory wonder how Jack had retained even a spark of his humanity. After another twenty minutes of trying to decide how to approach the situation, he's no closer to an answer than he had been when he first started reading the file. Clint Barton ... aka Hawkeye .. Rory's lips twitch in a slight smile. Hawkeye seemed like such a strange nickname, but then .. who was he to comment on weird? The Last Centurion ... the Immortal Captain ... even the Doctor .. such strange names that they all went by. And in a way, all fitting, also. He had clung to the ideals of a Centurion soldier, even after coming back through the Rift and ending up in Cardiff. Jack .. he had reached the rank of Captain many times over in so many different forms of military that it makes Rory's head spin ... and the Doctor .. well, he was the man trying to heal the entire Universe. A job that would drive anyone insane. And he's still not sure that it hadn't .. 

He carefully closes the file and places it smack dab in the middle of Fury's desk, where it had begun, and pushes himself to his feet. Maybe the best way to deal with this wasn't by -planning-. No, he should approach this the same way he had approached trouble with his cohort back in Roman. Heartfelt seemed to work more often than not. He turns and exits the office, nearly colliding with a young woman that he had seen around the labs. She was nice, sweet, though she seemed to talk on and on, without saying much of anything. She also seemed really nervous. When they nearly collide, he reaches out to grab her by the shoulders, to stop their momentum so they don't run into each other. She immediately goes red in the cheeks, and starts to stammer something, unable to form true words, though. 

"Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to burst out like that. Oh! You're just the person I was looking for, actually, Miss Andrews!" Rory's words cause the woman to practically light up, Rory not seeming to realize the fact. Nor does he see the way she edges slightly closer to him once his hands have fallen from her shoulders. 

"Oh! Really? How can I help you, Rory?" Rory doesn't seem to blink when she uses his first name, his gaze having started to wander in search of something. He finds himself a little uncomfortable with the fact that so many seemed to work here, and he still hadn't learned his way around, yet. He sighs, feeling his own cheeks light in a little blush.

Yeah, picture that; adorable, cute Rory, blushing, smiling sheepishly, the kind of portrait he must paint to Miss Andrews, who is looking at him like he's a Nerd godling come to life or something! And imagine how -clueless- Rory would be about it all. 

"I'm .. a bit lost around here, still, and I've no clue where to find someone. I'm looking for Mr. Barton .. erm, Hawkeye .. do you know where he might be?" For one moment, Miss Andrews looks utterly shattered, and Rory looks really confused. If Jack had seen this play out, he would've hurt something laughing so hard. The fact that Rory could be so clueless was downright adorable to the Captain. 

"Oh , uhm ... M-Mr. Barton. Of course .. uhm .." She scrambles to compose herself, taking a step back to look around the office for a moment. Never had she been so embarrassed, and never had she been so wounded, though Rory didn't understand what was happening here. And maybe that's what wounds her the most, it felt as if she were being looked right through or something. "Mr. Barton is more than likely out in the practice bunker. There's an archery facility set up out there ... Excuse me, Mr. Williams." With that, she turns and heads out of the area, leaving Rory standing there, confused. However, he knows that he doesn't have the time to try and figure it out. He heads off in search of Hawkeye.


	7. Hawkeye

Rory has never been the type of man to place too much importance on materialistic things. He didn't want and want and want as so many did. Sure, he had once coveted a car, but he had not spent his entire life looking for things to collect, possess and own. His fiance had been the exact opposite. She always seemed to want things ... always seemed to have her eye on things, and he knew that on occasion, her eyes were on other men as well. It's one of the reasons that he had left her, and the consequences of leaving her had in turn brought him to Torchwood, and now here. 

He's unsure why he finds himself sinking into such maudlin thoughts, and he forces himself to climb right back up, out of it. After all, he's currently in search of a young man that needs his help. How he's supposed to help him, he's unsure ... but, he will do his best. 

In the end, it didn't take long for Rory to locate the bunker. Despite the fact that it's a state of the art training facility/gym, it seemed to be the only building devoid of foot traffic. The Centurion found himself practically standing watch at the head of the path leading down to the building, silently hoping to observe some small glimmer of life. Five .. twenty .. forty-five minutes pass and he fails to see a single person go in or out of the building. 

"That's not loads of creepy or anythin'." He mumbles the words to himself before he finally begins to move once more, following the silent path to the seemingly lifeless building. 

His first thought upon entering the building? Why the hell didn't Torchwood have something like this!? The exterior had looked sufficiently cavernous and intimidating ... but the inside? It was somehow .. larger. (Not in a faded blue police box way, mind.) There's something about the collection of training equipment, sparring rings, and situation simulators that makes the interior extra impressive and sort of larger than life. Rory's next thought makes him groan softly; it's the exact same qualities that seem to draw people to the Captain. He stalls his next thought and allows himself to continue studying the place. 

It's not until he's toured through a third of the facility that he realizes there is something -very- wrong with the place. Despite the modern, high tech vastness, it actually does remind him of Torchwood in a bit way. The sepulcher-like tone of the place. Much as Torchwood did when Jack wasn't in the Hub, the facility seemed dead and abandoned. 

"Creeeepy .." He elongates the word on a sighed exhale before he continues walking. Idly, he wonders if he had been misinformed about the possibility of Barton being here, because it honestly looks as if the place hadn't been used since it's creation. It steadily fills him with a sense of utter wrongness. And yet, he goes on. He's nothing if not thorough.

By the time he's reached the last section of the bunker, he's aware of the first true signs of life. The schnick and twang of something Rory is all too familiar with from his time in Caesar's army; the sound of someone knocking and firing an arrow. He remembers, with a touch of fear, the master archers of the Gauls raining arrows down on he and his men. It was something from a nightmare! The sky near blacked out by arrows, men falling dead at his feet before he could fathom what was happening ... Rory gives his head a near violent shake to return to the present. 

He can do nothing for those he lost, but he can try to ensure that he loses no one else. The change that overcomes him is subtle, and yet, somehow profound. Gone is the healer, replaced by the pragmatic leader. He inches forward silently, following the almost frantic sounds of arrows embedding in targets. Precise .. deadly .. and yet, hesitant. There's a sour, off beat between each hit that tells Rory the archer is hesitating between each shot. Not by much, just a few seconds, but in combat, a few seconds could equal a few lives. That's never good. 

"Nice shot .. but bollocks on the follow through, mate." Despite the 'boy next door' look to him, and the generally laid back demeanor, Rory's voice carries the full authority of a Roman Centurion. With surprising swiftness and ease, Rory side steps an errant arrow, his sudden appearance having jarred Hawkeye, causing him to botch the shot badly. 

"Shit! You okay?" The voice comes from above with a hint of distress that comes from quick movement downward as Hawkeye exits the sniper nest he had been working from. He comes to a surprised stop, however, once he reaches the ground when he sees Rory standing there, twirling the errant arrow like a baton. 

"No worries, mate. 'm a bit faster than that." Rory holds the arrow out to the archer, who takes it and slides it in with the others. 

"Sorry, not used to anyone else being in here. Probably not the best idea to be practicing while distracted, either." Barton mumbles almost sheepishly. 

"On the contrary .. sometimes, the best remedy to combat distraction is making sure you have something to focus on." Rory makes his observation as he turns and heads toward the targets. He offers a low, appreciative whistle before he begins to collect the arrows. "Wicked accuracy for a still target at that kind of angle. But in the field, you'll choke and people will get killed." The words roll from Rory's tongue with the kind of casualness one discusses the weather, or states a simple, well established fact. There is no malice, spite, or reprimand in the words, Rory is simply trying to ensure that Hawkeye is aware of the facts as they stand. For one moment, the older looks prepared to argue, but he deflates almost immediately. 

"... I know." He concedes softly, feeling utterly defeated. Rory gives a curt nod, holding the arrows out to the older man before walking toward the ladder that leads into the sniper's nest. 

"Up." Rory commands, Hawkeye following without question. It's not until they are both crammed into the small space that he finds himself wondering why he had snapped-to at the Medic's command. After only a few seconds of thought, he realizes it's because there's a sense of authority and wisdom that doesn't match the physical age of the younger man.

"Yes, sir." He sounds off without hesitation, though he finds himself wondering what the hell they are doing in the cramped space. Imagine his surprise when Rory turns to face him and begins to strip him! Or, at least, the sudden short circuit in his brain -thinks- that's what Rory is doing. "Whoa, Doc! Don't know what kind of therapy you had in mind, but --" The sight of Rory's scowl and fiery gaze shuts the man up instantly. 

"If you finish that sentence, soldier-boy, therapy will consist of a sparring ring and me handing you your arse on a bloody platter." Rory points out calmly, though there's a hint of amusement as well. "Also, I'm not a Doctor, either. Technically, I'm a nurse and qualified field medic. While I was studying for my doctorate, I was waylaid by a temporal rift storm and woke up in the time of Julius Caesar as he was fighting the Picts and Gauls." Again, the casualness with which Rory says all of this catches the older man off guard. As he talks, Rory goes about the original task, which had nothing to do with wanting to get Hawkeye's clothes off, beyond his gloves. 

"Wait! You went -back in time- and were a Legionnaire in Caesar's army? No way!" Rory quirks a brow at the note of disbelief in the other man's voice, then gives a bit of a warm, amused chuckle. 

"So .. an American hero turned from short and underdeveloped to the American version of a Greek God that was frozen and then thawed out half a century later you can believe, but not that I time traveled? What about the Asgardian idiot from an alien planet, who's people were worshiped by the Norse as gods? Or, hell, what about Captain Jack? The prat literally cannot stay dead! Plus, he's over 100 years old." Hawkeye sighs softly as Rory begins to pull the gloves off, hating that the man speaks truth. If he can believe the rest of it, why not? 

"I .. I guess most of it sounds ridiculous, yeah. So, did you achieve any rank?" Rory gives a bit of a sad smile, and after a moment, a reluctant nod of his head. 

"Several, actually, in the 18 years I was in that god-forsaken place. From Legionnaire to Centurion, then on to Tribune. I became Caesar's top spy against the Gauls, since I could move a lot easier than most, and looked a bit more like a Gaul rather than a Roman. Of course, he never realized it was because I -was- a Gaul .. just, you know, from the future and all." Rory gives a mirthless chuckle, his gaze having narrowed slightly. He truly hates remembering his time back then. "I probably would've risen much higher in the ranks if my negative views on slavery hadn't pissed Caesar off so badly. He couldn't understand how an 'educated' man could be against such a popular, 'obvious' thing like the owning of slaves. 

Rory flexes his hands and fingers slowly, getting a feel for the gloves, his handsome features suddenly clouding by a dark, angry frown. 

"Even if common sense hadn't told me that slavery was so damn wrong, I would've been -disgusted- with the way that barbarian treated his slaves .." There had been one particular slave who's treatment had nearly made Rory see red .. and had tempted him to change the course of history more than once due to that anger and disgust. 

".. you okay, sir?" The surprising level of concern in Hawkeye's voice snaps Rory back to the presence and away from those toxic memories. 

"Yeah! Now, I'm hella rusty on this .. so, give us a hand, mate." Rory shapes the words into a command, no longer surprised when the older man snaps to. However, it's now Rory's turn to feel a little surprised when Hawkeye's hands are on him, grasping him at the hips from behind. 

"... sparring ring, soldier-boy." Rory cautions softly, with a hint of amusement in the words. It takes a rather long moment for the older man to realize that he's gripping Rory's hips, and to remember that the medic had threatened to kick his arse in the sparring ring. 

"Damn! Sorry, sir!" He blurts and splutters the words out, hands yanked quickly from Rory's hips, a red hot blush across his cheeks. Rory merely chuckles again, a faint hint of a smirk across his handsome features. 

"I know I'm irresistible, mate, but lets try and keep it professional for now, yeah?" The words are a slow, playful drawl, and Hawkeye's eyes narrow. 

"Oh, please. You're totally resistible .. sir." He tacks the sir on the end almost as an afterthought, eyes widening once more. Wait ... for now!? That was -not- something Hawkeye was expecting. 

Rory smirks outwardly at the man's rejoinder, but inside, he is groaning faintly. Because that smart ass comment sounded more like the kind of ridiculous line Captain Swagger would give. Actually, Rory decides to blame the line on the fact that he has spent too much time with Jack this year. Though, given the circumstances that -caused- him to spend so much time with the Captain, he really doesn't have the right to blame anything on his Boss. 

"Ok, first off .. this isn't like the bows those savages used." Hawkeye's voice cuts through Rory's thoughts and he forces himself to continuing concentrating on the moment. "It's not a hand carved bow, so the balance is a little different. You'll have to get a feel for it." So, Rory carefully runs his hand down the curve of the bow before testing the string by giving it a careful tug. On the second tug of the string, he's hit by a wave of familiarity that is powerful and absolute. 

Apparently, the old saying is true; it's just like riding a bike, you never truly forget. He knocks an arrow and fires so quickly that Hawkeye's mouth drops open in shock and a touch of awe as the arrow embeds in the center of the target. Unfortunately, the awe is short lived, soon replaced with a touch of annoyance when Rory knocks two more arrows and clusters the with the first one. 

"Now bad, sir .. but how about we stop with the BS and address the real reason you're here?" Rory releases a sigh and sets the bow aside. "So, give it to me straight ... medical discharge, sir?" Rory's brows knit at the question and after a moment, all he can do is shrug his shoulders. 

"Honestly? No clue, mate. I've not been sent to evaluate you for discharge, so I don't know. I'm just here to talk." A job his former Boss is far better suited for, in his opinion. Talking used to be easy, but that was before the Rift storm stole him away .. before 18 years of Caesar's lies and BS .. before his time at Torchwood. 

"Look, I just ... I'm not sure this is something I can handle right now, sir." 

"Too bad, soldier-boy. This is -not- about -your- wants .. it's about the team's -needs.- Down. Now." Hawkeye immediately begins to climb down, yelping in surprise when his gloves come falling down after him. Again, he experiences a near atomic blush for a moment, quickly pulling the gloves back on as Rory climbs down. 

"Okay .. just want to make sure I got this right, Barton. You're in a funk, questioning your usefulness and your abilities because last year, an alien Gd used a super cube to enslave you to his cause and used you against your friends and teammates .. that about right?" 

"Well, sir .. it's .. a little more comp-"

"Yes or no, soldier-boy!?" Rory barks the command/question out in that authoritative voice and Hawkeye snaps to again. 

"Yes sir!"

"That's what I thought ... have a sit, lad." Rory quickly sinks to his backside on the ground, Hawkeye following suit, settling next to him. 

"Now, I understand what happened. Trust me. One of the first things I learned at Torchwood is that your coworkers aren't always your coworkers, and that it's easy to have your mind messed with." Barton stares at him with a look of quiet, but total, disbelief. After everything he had recently learned about Torchwood, no way does he believe an organization like that could so easily be infiltrated. Rory lets out a pained little sigh, before offering a sad little smile, having easily ready the disbelief in Barton's features. 

"Honestly, mate .. what reason have I got to lie, eh? Like you said, they could easily bust you out of here for medical reasons, so there's no reason for me to make up a bunch of BS to make you feel better. Add to that the fact that I'm a nurse, and no way would I breech my ethics or endanger the team by making stuff up, either. Does no good, that." After a moment of hesitation, Hawkeye gives a bare nod of acceptance and understanding, remaining silent so that Rory can continue. 

"In just the year I worked for Torchwood, there were two cases of telepathic control, 5 duplicates of team members in various ways, and even one case in which the Captain was slowly replaced by an alternate dimension's version of himself. And that's just in -1 year-, so that doesn't include all the weird stuff that happened before I arrived." Out of all of that, Rory knows that he will -never- forget the replacing of Jack with AJ. It was the second scariest, hardest thing he had ever dealt with. 

"And in that year .. there were also three possessions .. one of which was myself." Haweye's mouth falls open in disbelief. After all, he had seen the way Rory had performed on the battlefield. How could he still be that capable after an ordeal like that!? He glances back at him, a little surprised to see that his eyes have closed. 

"The day it happened started like any other. There was a storm over Cardiff that had arisen out of nowhere. There was concern that it might be a Rift Storm, so the team convened at the Hub. The meeting was awkward, and .. well .. a little hostile, I'm ashamed to admit. The Captain and I were fighting .. again .. over something stupid ... again." Rory winces as he admits that, his brows furrowed in concern. Unfortunately, he and Jack had fought a -lot- in the beginning. Neither of them were even sure -why- they fought so much, but eventually, it made complete sense. 

"Out of nowhere, there was a crack of lightening so loud that I honestly expected the Hub to blow up around us. Within ten minutes, calls started coming in from all over the place .. Gwen's contact at the police, UNIT ... the city was being plagued by .. well .. a plague. People that had been caught in the downpour were already showing signs of a major sickness. Thirty minutes after that .. we had the first fatality count; 200 dead in thirty minutes .. mostly children and the elderly. Just two hours after that, the plague had infected almost half of the city's population, and we had finally managed to track patient Zero; the first person to show infection. It was -not- what we expected." Barton is surprised to see the high flush of emotion across Rory's expressive features; pain, sorrow, and anger. 

"UNIT had already confiscated Zero, and thanks to their red tape stonewalling, others were beginning to weaken and die. Jack dispatched Owen and me to examine the patient. Preliminary findings suggested it was nothing more than the common, everyday flu virus .. but obviously, it had to be more than that. After all, plenty of people get the Flu and they didn't die in droves like this. So, then came the concern that it may have somehow mutated because of the Rift .. a prospect none of us could really handle. And then things got worse. -Much- worse. Entire areas of the city were cordoned off, and those that were infected were moved to those areas to be quarantined as best as they could. It became a joint effort between Torchwood and UNIT to monitor the situation. 

Despite the fact that Owen had been on the team longer, I had more experience in the field, so Jack put me in charge of the Torchwood side of the operation. My first official action was to -order- Owen away. I sent him back to the Hub, so that he could liaise between HQ and myself, in case I needed him to do something. I couldn't admit that I was trying to protect Owen .. because I knew his fragile ego couldn't stand something like that. Needless to say, he wasn't happy with the decision. So much so, apparently, that his angry ranting had almost immediately driven Jack from the Hub. And, surprise surprise .. he came straight to me. It wasn't long before we were back to arguing. This time, it was about 'office romances.' Jack didn't see anything wrong with them, and I was totally against such a notion. It deteriorated quickly into a screaming match between us, with him accusing me being unable to handle the fact that I had feelings for one of the team, and me basically telling him to fuck off and leave me be."

Hawkeye's eyes get so wide that Rory would've been concerned had he seen the look. All he can think is 'No way! He's gay!? But then, where the hell is this Owen guy? No way would he let Rory come here alone if they were together .. right?' He's surprised to find himself nearly praying that the man hadn't broken the Ex-Centurion's heart. Rory seemed way too cool to go through something like that. 

"The fight, unfortunately, did more than just piss us both off. It proved be a distraction that we couldn't afford. I had been in the middle of examining Patient Zero, who had been tendered unconscious, when the Captain started the fight. I was distracted by my own anger and emotion at the all too familiar fight. Which is why I missed the spike in Zero's vitals. Missed his sudden rise to awareness. The bastard bit me and I never saw it coming. I was just preparing to order Jack out of the room when I screamed in pain. And, of course, the Captain jumped into action .. and was bitten as well. As far as I could tell, neither bite broke the skin, so there was nothing to worry about. The moment Zero was secured and sedated, the Captain escorted me back to the Hub to get some sleep .." 

Rory begins to shift uncomfortably on the ground, a cloud of negative emotion darkening his features. Hawkeye finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of what will happen next. 

"I was barely out an hour before the dreams began. I .. I can barely remember most of them now .. in fact, just the one, really. There were hooded beings sacrificing people on stone pillars. Gutting them .. spreading their entrails out in some kind of horrible offering or something. And then .. I saw myself joining their ranks. Taking up the knife and continuing the work. In the dream, one by one, I gutted and displayed each member of Torchwood .. everyone who meant something to me and were close at hand. When I woke up .. it was horrible. It .. it was like .. looking out of someone else's eyes. It was my body, my mind and yet, somehow completely foreign to me." 

Barton's eyes snap shut, his hands clenched into tight fists against his thighs. Oh yes, he knows that feeling all too well. Had lived it, his own personal hell. 

"When I looked down, I had a knife in my hand and was drenched in blood. It was congealed in a cold pool around my bare feet. I .. I started to scream, and couldn't stop, when I looked down and realized that I had gutted the one I loved .. and p-put his b-body on display just as the dream had told me to. I'm not sure which member of the team finally knocked me out, but I woke up three weeks after the infection began. Turned out it was nothing more than extermination attempt. A biological warfare attack from outer space designed to make us exterminate each other and make way for an easy take over. In the end, a wide spectrum antibiotic was all that was needed to stop it. But that didn't change the fact that I had killed someone, brutally, while infected. Everyone forgave me, said they understood, but it was something I had to come to terms with on my own. You will too."

Hawkeye exhales sharply, unable to find his voice. So, this is what happened to the Owen guy? Rory -killed- him because of an alien virus!? He blinks, surprised to see Rory already standing, scrambling to do the same. 

"Trust me, I'm sure your team understands. And unfortunately, we all have to take the bad with the good. It's part of being a hero." After a moment, Hawkeye finds himself giving the other man a hesitant but brief hug, which Rory returns sort of awkwardly with a sad smile. 

"Thanks, Doc. For sharin' that and all. See ya around." With that, Hawkeye shimmies back up, into the sniper's nest, and Rory heads out, back to his own domain. The Ex-Centurion is surprised how good it feels to have finally about that event.


	8. The Immortal Prat

The walk back to main HQ seems to drag on endlessly, Rory feeling lighter for having finally spoken about the viral attack to someone that hadn't been involved, and yet, still burdened with the knowledge that he had killed someone while possessed. It is something he will never be able to forgive himself, despite the circumstances of the situation. A man that dedicated himself to saving lives could never be okay with the thought of taking them, no matter what the circumstances. It's wrong, in every way, and if he ever -does- get used to it, he knows that he will no longer be himself. In the end, that is probably the one thing he fears most; losing himself in the midst of everything that is going on around him. 

After all, having watched Jack for a year, and heard some of the stories of what the Immortal Captain had done before Rory arrived, he has seen the differences in the man and knows that no one comes out of an institute like Torchwood, or S.H.I.E.L.D. for that matter, unscathed. But at the same time, one can still retain a piece of their humanity, a piece of -themselves-. Or so he hopes. 

"Excuse me .. Mr. Williams?" The timid, feminine voice catches Rory off guard as he enters back into the main building, his entire body tensing visibly. It's hard to come down from giving orders and making demands in that soldier way, to remembering that he is more of a nurse than a soldier these days. He clears his throat, forces his wiry, sinewy limbs to carefully relax, and then turns to face the speaker. She's shorter than him by almost half a foot, with fiery red hair, dimples, and thick 'nerd' glasses that seem to somehow make her all the prettier. 

"Yes, ma'am?" He tries to remember to use the American vernacular of ma'am rather than the pronounced mom that has become associated with the British vernacular. The woman offers up a sweet smile, though there is a note of nervousness to it that sets Rory on edge. He doesn't know the woman personally, but everything about her bubbly, happy appearance says that she isn't easily made to be nervous or anything, so it must be something important. And he has a feeling that whatever it is .. he's -really- not going to like it. 

"Uhm .." The sound is a soft sigh out of her as she glances nervously toward the door that Rory had just come in through, and then toward a door that is settled toward the back of the building. "Mr. Harkness .. er, Captain Harkness .. just came through here in a tear, sir. He was .. well, pissed off and glowering is the only way I can describe it. He barked at a few people that got too close and tore off, down to the firing ranges below. Everyone's too afraid to go down and talk to him. Could you .. maybe ...?" Rory groans softly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. Great. He's being asked to go down and get Captain Strange out of a funk?? Do -any- of these people realize just how impossible that is!? And yet, in sending the kind woman to ask, they had ensured he would do it .. because it's better him than someone else try to deal with the prat. 

"Alright, ma'am. I'll go and see to him." And holy hell, but if Jack had -heard- Rory refer to the situation that way, there would be one hell of a fight about to happen. Of course, there's a chance there will be a fight anyway, given the fact that neither of them are very good at interacting with each other when they're angry. In fact, he knows that if he were a little smarter, he'd turn around, apologize to the woman and be on his merry so that he wouldn't get caught in the middle of whatever has pissed the Prat off. Well, Amy had always accused him of lacking a certain amount of smarts, so it's no surprise when he turns and trudges in the direction of the firing range. Great .. The Captain, Rory and guns .. never exactly a good combination given their anger issues with one another, but still .. better him than anyone else. Someone else might get it wrong. 

And my oh -my- but did that sound arrogant for some reason! He didn't mean to imply, even if only to himself, that he was the only one capable of dealing with the irate man, but he knew that of everyone here, he is actually the one Jack was least likely to hurt if he could help it. And that just made Jack sound like a monster or something, and Rory knows damn well that isn't the truth, either! Jack had one hell of a big heart and a really cool, old soul, but sometimes, he just snapped. And Rory would -never- be able to blame that on Jack. No, he blames it on the Captain's strange, fucked up past with that terrible, sorry excuse for an -Agency- that had produced people like 'John Hart,' a man he hoped to -never- come face to face with again, or one of them would NOT walk away from the encounter. Jack had stopped him from pulling the trigger once, but never again. Hart is a dead man, he just doesn't know it yet. 

Rory can feel every muscle in his body beginning to tense, roiling and trembling beneath his skin as he tries to tell himself that everything is okay. After all, even with the fights he and the Captain often got into at Torchwood, he had never seen, or even heard of the Captain barking at other members of the team if they didn't deserve it, so to know that he had been abrasive to anyone as he passed is reason for concern, reason for the ex-Soldier to be on guard. Not that he wasn't usually on guard when Jack was around, or somehow involved, but at the moment, he almost feels hyper-aware. 

Sight, sound, smell, and vibration are the first four senses that immediately pick something up due to his aware state. First, the strange, gritty taste of gunpowder in the air, the oily smell of gun-smoke as it dissipates into a thin, filmy mist that rises. The quick, metallic thunk of a gun kicking, followed by the thud of a bullet burying itself in the target .. and there is a sort of .. vibration in the air. A metallic resonation that mixes with a sense of anger that is almost more acrid, percussive, and intrusive than the gun itself. In fact, it causes Rory to shudder a fraction, though he is doing everything in his power to keep his reactions under wrap. He doesn't want to give any indication of his true, deep discomfort away to Jack. The Captain could resist many things .. just not temptation. He had told Rory as much on many occasions. 

Another heavy kick of metal, whiz of a bullet and the sickening sound of it embedding in something. Rory reaches up, runs his fingers awkwardly through his red-brown hair, fighting down the desire to turn tail and run. No. He had not run when facing down Caesar's enemies, when dealing with ravenous, cruel aliens that wanted a planet that didn't belong to them .. he was -NOT- about to do so just because the Captain is in a bad mood! So, he takes a few more moments to steel his resolve before he strolls toward the sound of the commotion. 

He's not really expecting the scene he comes across! It seemed as if he hadn't seen Jack laid back, comfortable or even really -human- seeming in quite some time. So, to round the corner and see his signature military cut great coat slung across a chair, his sleeves unbuttoned and shoved up to his elbows, braces hanging down on either side of his hips ... even his -hair- is a right mess! It just seems so .. un-Jack-like. Whatever irritated comment or question Rory had been preparing to put Jack on edge so that they could do what they always do, argue until the problem is solved, dies almost instantly. Instead, he feels his throat constrict a little, and a sort of .. weary sadness settle heavy in his heart. 

"What do you want .. -soldier boy-." The nickname is spoken with biting venom, and Rory can't suppress a wince. Again, he feels that urge to turn and run, but the ground that would be lost doing so would be too much. It's a loss he would regret forever. 

"I want you to pull your head from your ass, adjust your attitude, and act your damned age!" The words come out of nowhere, snapping, biting, verbal venom that catches both of them by surprise. So much so that Jack's hands jerk, his last shot barely winging the target. He carefully lays the firearm down and turns to face Rory, steel blues narrowed, clouded with unreadable emotion. His lips peel back in a way that almost resembles a wild animal's snarl. 

"Don't pull that authoritative voice on me, soldier. It's never worked and it ain't about to start to. You don't boss a Boss, babe." His words are nearly flippant at the end, and he turns, preparing to pick up the gun once more. 

"You're not my Boss anymore, Harkness, remember? You're just another grunt, same as me. So don't pull the Boss BS, and I won't pull the commanding officer voice." Rory's words are clipped, emotionless, and that is almost as dangerous as Jack's own venomous tone. They had a way of pushing each others buttons with the slightest provocation, and it seemed to be proving rather true in this moment. "And if you pick that gun up, you will regret it." Jack's hand jerks back before he can even think about the action, and that pisses him off to no end! He's not used to -listening- when given an order/threat/reprimand/etc, but he finds himself doing just that. Because he knows that Rory will not back down .. that they will butt heads again and again until it turned into an out and out fight with screaming, painful words and even threats of violence, though he cannot think of a single time that a fight had actually turned violent between them. Heated, angry, passionate, but never physically violent. Thank the -Gods- because he has a feeling that such a thing would bring down the entire world if they weren't careful. 

"Is there a particular reason you're down here, soldier-boy, or are you just here to annoy me?" Jack shoves away from the counter, turning after a moment to lean against it, propping himself on his arms. Rory half expected him to shove his big arse up, onto it as he had a habit of doing back at the Hub and what not. He shakes his head just a bit to clear that thought, his lips pursing into a scowling frown that only barely manages to hide how truly annoyed and angry he is at the moment. 

"For a reason. Some nice lady with a bit of a harrowed expression came up to me and told me that you -tore- through the area, barking at people and being a general ass to everyone. Apparently, they thought -I- was the one to come down here and talk to you. Why, is beyond me." Rory frowns, his hands having migrated behind him, clamped in a basic parade rest stance that always put Jack on edge for some reason. Probably because it was so impersonal and just .. wrong, coming from the usually warm, charismatic man. Jack shifts a little where he's leaning, trying so hard to keep from saying anything mean, rude, or generally undeserved that he knows would be nothing more than a reflection of his own state. 

"... damn it. Why the hell is this suddenly so hard?" Jack mumbles the words acerbically under his breath, not even caring at this point if Rory hears them or not. Though he knows, with his luck, the perceptive ex-soldier would hear him with no trouble. 

"I have no clue, but we've talked about it before ... about how mixing at work doesn't work." Rory's tone matches the same acidity level as Jack's, though there is also a tone of tiredness in the words. The Captain at least has the good grace to lower his gaze and look at least slightly chagrined. Yes, they have had this discussion and frankly, there is nothing Rory can say or do that will change his mind ... though, he has to admit, if only to himself, observing Rory with Hawkeye -really- hadn't settled well with him. And that is -not- something he is used to! 

"You're right. We have. Which is why I was just a little .. surprised (angry) to see you so cozy with Hawkeye in the sniper's nest. Actually -flirting-." The word flirting is a whisper, a crack in Jack's voice that may as well have been the beginning of his entire, controlled facade cracking to the very foundation of what he tries to be. Rory takes a step back, his eyes widening a fraction of an inch before snapping closed with a look of confusion and wounded something, though Jack can't quite read it. 

"Jack .. that .. that wasn't what it looked like, I'm sure! Agent Fury sent me in to talk to him ... because we had something sort of similar happen. I .. you had to have heard. I just, I ... I reverted to what I remembered from Rome! Battlefield flirting was natural, commonplace, and it was great for putting a traumatized soldier at ease. It worked .." Rory's own facade has begun to crumble as well, cracking down the seams as his hands fall from behind his back. The familiar stance that he took to close himself off and put the Immortal Prat off guard falls to shambles and he feels himself beginning to physically and emotionally deflate.

"I've got no problem with battlefield flirting, Williams. Hell, been there, done that, a lot of times. Too many wars to keep count of at this point!" Jack pushes himself out of his lean and snaps around on his heels to grab up his revolver and check it over. Giving his hands something to do so that he does not turn and beat the hell out of the room in some archaic need to release the overwhelming, -ridiculous- anger stewing inside of him. 

"Jack .." Rory speaks the name softly, though it nearly sticks in his throat as he struggles to get it out without letting it be colored by the tears that are stinging the backs of his eyes. He hates crying! Before Rome, he was a man of obvious sentiment and emotion, but now? He has a right reign on such things!! Unless, of course, it involves Jack. His weak point. 

"It doesn't matter ... 'soldier-boy.' Just .. don't matter at all." Jack's icy tone is enough to stun Rory, but it's the emphasis of soldier-boy that turns his feet to cement, stuck to the place he's standing as Jack brushes past him and out of the room. That's all it boils down to!? Soldier-boy .. he had called Mr. Barton Soldier-boy, and in the end, that is what irks Jack the most? Rory exhales sharply, wishing Jack had left the revolver behind so that he could annihilate a target! 

"This is going to be a long afternoon." He sighs the words to the silent room around him before he turns and trudges from the practice range with Jack's coat folded haphazardly across his arm, dragging himself back toward the sterile safety of his exam room.


	9. Captain Who?

Rory is sitting on a stool at one of the counters in his exam room. He's propping his head up with his fist, elbow grinding into the counter top as he struggles to get his mind -back- on task. Something that is usually a non-issue when he's at work. Even at Torchwood, he was very, -very- unlikely to let emotion get in the way of what he knew needed to be done. And the few times he has managed to let his emotions get the better of him, it hadn't ended well. Like with the outbreak. The murder that still weighs heavy on his conscience. 

He blinks, lashes jerking and fluttering to try and focus the blur that his eyes have become. He has been staring at the same page, chalk full of information that he has a feeling is probably a bit above his paygrade, but he continues reading. Continues forcing himself to focus more and more until he can actually make it past the picture and name on the file; Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. He glances at the picture, a touch of heat building in his cheeks. 

There is something striking and familiar about Steve Rogers that both amuses and annoys Rory ... he's the Earth equivalent of Jack Harkness. And not just physically, because lets face it, Jack could -easily- pass for Steve's older brother with their shared boyish good looks. Nor is it for any reason so mundane as the fact that they both share the title of Captain. It goes so far beyond that. They're both old-fashioned heroes, despite Jack being from the future. They even share some of the same ideals, though Jack would argue that fact. The man could argue from now until the end of the world and not be a bit phased by it. Something else that irks Rory to no end. 

However, Rory can see the differences as well. As impressive as Captain America is, Rory doubts he would survive having to make a fourth of the tough decisions Jack has made. He wouldn't be capable of handing a single little girl over to save an entire country, or sequestering himself from the rest of the world to live in a bunker under a city to battle against the darkness of the Universe so that others don't have to. 

To Rory, Jack will -always- be the greatest hero out there. Of course, that doesn't lessen the respect or awe he has for Captain America, either. 

Rory groans, reaching up to rub at his eyes, already so very tired and he's not even sure if the end of the day is in sight! He blames his sudden and overwhelming exhaustion on Jack and the drama between them. Though, he also knows that he has to own some part of what happened, what always happens. But that's the thing with Jack! There's always something going on in his mind, some cog or wheel turning that makes complete and utter sense to the Captain but rarely does so for anyone outside of his mind. Which is why Rory still doesn't quite understand why a generic nickname had set Jack off so badly .. or how he's supposed to repair the situation. It seemed they had this strange back and forth between them. One commits an offense without realizing, they find common ground, and then everything falls apart again.

So far, the only real blessing in this entire mess, is that they have always found a way to pick up the pieces and continue on. But, being both a medic and a soldier, Rory understands that eventually, simple logic states that there has to be a time when they can't continue on. When they go so far that there will be no pieces left to pick up. But he refuses to let -today- be that day. 

He snaps the file closed with an acerbic growl, the puff of breath that escapes with the action ruffling his bangs as he struggles to keep his cool. For a man that has spent the last 20 years of his life perfecting the art of Stoicism, he has quickly regressed to a rather emotional being. And he blames it all on one Captain Jack Harkness. The bloody twit that has forced him to face far too many things about himself since his employment began with Torchwood. The fact that Jack can so easily, so -quickly- penetrate his defenses unnerves the Ex-Centurion. It always has! And forget trying to figure out -how- the Immortal does it. Rory spent the better part of the past year trying to figure it out and has nothing but a near-miss mental breakdown to show for it. 

That isn't to say that he doesn't have a few theories, though. Because he does. Lots of them, in fact ... but he lacks a single shred of evidence to back them up. Some of the are also far out there and -really- ridiculous. Like mental empathy. He sometimes wonders if Jack has a way of mentally hijacking his emotions. Absurd, right!? Well ... until one stops to consider some of the mardy arse things Rory has encountered while working for Torchwood. And that's actually one of is more 'normal' theories.

He grunts in disgust, the flat of his furled fist hitting the counter top with enough force that he feels the structure wobble for a moment.

"Shoddy damn work." the words are far more scathing that they have any right to be, but he can't help himself! The anger from earlier still lingers, twisting around him with the clinging force of a blasted kudzu! The more he fights it, the more the emotion seems to wrap around him, -bury- him, even. He exhales sharply, the gust once more displacing his bangs slightly as he tries to make a game plan. He's supposed to be good at those, after all. 

"Away." The word is spoken like a revelation. Because it is. The simplest, -easiest- way to get his mind on straight is to get away! Not in the way of, like, running off and shirking his duty or anything like that, but he can afford to take a break for a few minutes and clear his head. After all, he's not scheduled to do anything, and if anyone -really- needs to get in touch with him, he has a S.H.I.E.L.D. issued cellphone that each team member had the number for. Problem solved. He hopes. 

He grabs the file up, smoothing the wrinkled edges of the folder with a sheepish smile that is pretty much useless since there's no one there to see it. But he smiles all the same, turning to escape from the lab. No, not escape. If he's trying to escape, then he is running and he -refuses- to let that happen. He did not run from spear-wielding 'savages' when he served in the army of Caesar, he's not about to run from a swaggering Immortal. Not. Gonna. Happen!

So, he decides that his best bet is to find some part of the base that he knows no one will bother him. The very first thought, of course, is the training area that had been utterly deserted save for Hawkeye. So, maybe he'd have privacy enough to get his head back on straight so that he can get back to work. He can't remember being this distracted since ... well, since his second day at Torchwood. It had been a bloody circus that day!


	10. Captain America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The lyrics are Moonlight Becomes You, by Bing Crosby)

The training facility that Rory has decided to seek refuge in is not as abandoned as it usually tends to be. In fact, even as the young medic makes his way down to the solitary building, two others sojourn within. The only two on the team that have the power to short circuit a section of Rory's brain! 

Captain Jack Harkness and Captain America are currently huddled in the training facility, having chosen this spot because it was empty, completely devoid of foot traffic. Though, unknown to Captain America, Jack has chosen it for a secondary reason, though even he's unaware of the truth. He chose it because it is the spot on which Rory had committed his 'offense' with Hawkeye.

Imagine Jack's surprise when he stumbled across Steve Rogers struggling to practice at the hardest thing he had ever done .. and -really- mucking it up. So much so, that Jack had found himself nearly howling with laughter as he watched him stumble through it. Granted, he didn't often out and out laugh at someone for struggling to do something, but it had been a truly comical sight. And after the fight they had all engaged in, it had felt good to laugh. After some full on, angry glaring at Jack, even Cap had started to laugh begrudgingly. He had to admit that yes, he did look a little foolish going at it on his own.

So, imagine Cap's surprise when Jack had offered to help. His first reaction was to laugh again, assuming the Captain was joking or something. But no, once he realized Jack was being truthful, he couldn't help feeling -really- uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't something one man helped another do. Though in thinking about it, he knew that if Bucky had offered to help all those years ago, he wouldn't have found it all that weird or uncomfortable. But, he -knew- Bucky. They had been best friends, so it wouldn't have been as strange as having some hotshot stranger offer the same.

In the end, though, even Captain America proved to lack immunity to Jack Harkness' charms.

As the training facility begins to loom on the horizon, Rory realizes that he's practically hugging the file to his side, fingers tight enough to leave faint pockmarks on the edge of the folder. Once he realizes that he's actually mutilating the inanimate object, he swears gingerly beneath his breath and forces his fingers to relax. Almost to the point of letting the file go! Another round of beneath the breath cursing, and he manages to find some happy medium to hold the damned thing. His steps quicken, becoming a clumsy rush the closer he gets to the building. Though, once again, -he is NOT running-!

"A-are you sure .. about this?" It's the first time Jack had ever heard such uncertainty in the voice of a man as confident and in control as Steve Rogers. And it makes him feel odd, knowing that it is because of him. But then, he had seen the hang-ups and uncertainties of this time in Earth's history and it doesn't surprise him as much as it probably should.

"Yes, I'm sure. You'll survive this, don't worry." Jack grins lightly, that boyish playfulness showing through, and Steve finds himself almost grinning in relief as he begins to finally relax. "If you believe it or not ... I remember the time well, lad. Being Immortal has it's perks .. and one of them, strangely, is that it was easy to fight wars. Easy to go out and let myself die and revive so that others didn't have to die and stay dead. I spent a lot of times in dance halls when I wasn't deployed." Steve's eyes widen a fraction, a brow shooting up in disbelief. It's hard to look at Jack and see a man that existed back in the same time that Steve had, and looked as relatively young as he did. Maybe, if Jack's circumstances had been more like his own, it would be easier.

"Yeah, I just can't really envision you back then, Captain. You seem too .." Steve finds himself struggling to come up with a proper description that wouldn't be too harsh or anything. "Worldly." He picks the only word he can really come up with, and Jack laughs softly, shaking his head. 

"Yeah, I know what you really mean, darlin. And all I have to say is .. trust me, there were a hell of a lot more like me back then than anyone is willing to admit. The military was just ... bullshit about it." Jack shakes his head and heads over to the CD player sitting at the foot of a practice dummy, kneeling to look through the rather eclectic mix of music. Jack picks a CD and loads it, a soft, gentle crooner's ballad beginning to play. 

"Here we go." Jack stands, stretching idly before he grabs his peacoat and shrugs it off. He tosses it across the same practice dummy that the Cd player rests beneath, and turns toward a red faced, awkward looking Captain America. "Just try to relax, Cap. I won't bite or anything." Jack winks at the other man, who goes a little more red in the face as he struggles to relax ... and doesn't quite achieve it. Jack rolls his eyes lightly but walks forward, toward the other man. 

"This is really .. weird. I mean, it seems like it would be easier fighting another alien invasion than this! How the hell does anyone just walk up to someone and ask --" His words have become pinched, louder, and almost desperate as he continues, until they are cut off by Jack's hand pressing gently against his mouth, silencing him. 

"Take a slow, deep breath." Steve complies, his chest expanding deeply as he inhales, holds, and then slowly exhales. Jack grins lightly, nodding. "Though, if you like, I could always go get Natasha and see if she'll help." The words are teasing in nature, and Cap's response isn't very surprising to Jack. The guy reaches out to grab a handful of Jack's shirt to keep him firmly rooted to the spot.

"How about not?! This is embarrassing enough!" Jack snickers softly, reaching down to carefully pry Steve's hand from his shirt, smoothing the material where it has puckered slightly.

"Alright, alright. Again, just calm down, Cap." Jack tries to soothe the other man, though the effort is a little undermined by the half smirk across his handsome features. 

"Moonlight becomes you, it goes with your hair  
You certainly know the right thing to wear  
Moonlight becomes you, I'm thrilled at the sight  
And I could get so romantic tonight .."

The crooning voice of Bing Crosby begins to flow through the room, seeming to echo a bit due to the size and emptiness of the facility. Jack grabs Steve;s hand and brings it around to rest on his side, the other he clutches lightly in his own. Steven continues to blush, his eyes having dropped to try and watch their feet. So that he wouldn't be so freaked out by the contact, wouldn't have to look Jack in the eyes or anything. And Jack, well .. he finds this all terribly amusing, though he's struggling not to let that fact be known. He doesn't want to make the other man more skittish than he already is.

"You're all dressed up to go dreaming  
Now don't tell me I'm wrong  
And what a night to go dreaming  
Mind if I tag along

If I say I love you  
I want you to know  
It's not just because there's moonlight  
Although, moonlight becomes you so"

Two steps into the basic movement of the dance and Jack winces in pain as a rather unsteady, but strong foot trods across his. So painfully, in fact, that his mind is filled with the almost amusing image of himself jumping up and down holding the offended appendage like an old cartoon character from a Bugs Bunny sketch or something. But, he doesn't let on to the fact that it hurt, still grinning that boyish half smirk.

"Alright, careful now. Just follow me for a moment .. sometimes you gotta follow before you can lead." He points this out softly, his smirk deepening and widening when Steve's eyes finally lift to regard him, a deep-seated scowl on his own features. After a moment, Steve realizes that the words were spoken deliberately, and he relaxes again. Wow, how did -anyone- get anything accomplished around Jack!? Steve finds that question springing up in his mind as he feels the relaxation spread through him, followed swiftly by the utter distraction that Jack causes. He honestly can't understand how anyone manages to function with that smirk wielded like a weapon against them. 

"You have no idea how damn distracting you are, do you?!" Steve snaps the question out between gritted jaw and teeth as he tries to concentrate on following Jack's lead. Hard to do when all he can think about is the smile hovering somewhere in front of him. He forces his gaze back down to their feet, though not before he treads across Jack's foot again, the immortal wincing a little.

"You're all dressed up to go dreaming  
Now don't tell me I'm wrong  
And what a night to go dreaming  
Mind if I tag along

If I say I love you  
I want you to know  
It's not just because there's moonlight  
Although, moonlight becomes you so"

Distracting? Is he really -that- distracting? Well, he had been called so many times in the past. Hell, many times in the most recent past as well, Rory having made the same statement not that long ago. In almost the exact same fashion, actually. In a statement of agitation, he had gritted the words from clenched jaws, Jack having been completely taken aback since he viewed Rory the same way. So very distracting. Which, in their line of work, well .. that is a dangerous thing.

"Uhm .. sorry?" Jack apologizes even as he chuckles a little, the last music of Moonlight Becomes You fading away as they both still. Though he notes that Steve doesn't pull from the dance position despite the fact that they have stopped moving. "It's not like I -try- to be distracting or anything, Cap. I'm just trying to help you out." Jack's words have become somewhat petulant and sulky, his hand starting to pull from Steve's. If he's so -distracting-, Captain American can stumble his way through teaching himself to dance! Yes, it's a bit of a childish reaction, but he feels he deserves the right to be a little petulant after the day he had had. Some small part of him wants to be bitter and mean and blame this all on Rory and Hawkeye, but that would be silly. And wrong. Right?

"I .. I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to ... please. I need your help." Jack blinks, feeling Steve's hand tightening on his, keeping him from pulling away. Not that he could explain why, but Cap's words of apology nearly bowl him over. He shuffles awkwardly for a moment, hearing the song start back over after a moment.

"Alright, Cap. Now, it's your turn to lead. Just, concentrate, don't watch your feet, okay darlin?" Jack offers a smile, but Steve notices immediately that it has lost most of it's playfulness, it's fullness. He wants to kick himself for being so ridiculous, but he knows that he can't do much about it now. He had made the mistake, and now he had to live with it. 

"Okay, Jack." Steve murmurs the words before he begins to dance, trying not to look at his feet. 

In the shadows, Rory had watched the display. The strains of music had called him through the facility since he had expected it to be completely empty. He had almost found the scene amusing for the most part ... almost. He had actually been doing fine until Jack used one single word. That had enraged him more than it had any right to, and he can't even understand why his reaction is immediate and negative. He wants to march right up and smack Jack across the back of the head, but he manages to wrangle in his temper. Barely. 

He continues watching for a few more moments, seeing the improvement in Steve from the mess he had been when Jack first started dancing with him. Rory clutches the file tighter and turns, silently stalking from the facility. When he reaches the labs where he had been working for the majority of his day, he hands Captain America's file off to one of the nurses, asking that she see the man whenever he eventually showed, not wanting to deal with him. He knows that it is petty, but he can't help it. Even he is human.


	11. Let This Day Finally End

Once the dreaded, vile file had been handed off, Rory finds a measure of comfort returned to him. He has managed to duck the situation entirely, and ensured that he doesn't have to go anywhere near the ridiculously cute, charismatic superhero .... that is currently putting the moves on Rory's Boss. Though, yes, again, here, Jack doesn't outrank Rory, but the centurion can never see it that way. No, he came here with Jack, and that makes the Captain his CO. Always. But it's more than that! The Captain had become so much more than his commander .. he had also become his friend. Best friend, now that Amy is no longer in his life, actually. So then, why was the neanderthal that practically oozes machismo currently flirting with Captain Jack Harkness? Was that the reason? Was there something in the shared ranking that bound them together?? There has to be some thread .. tie ... that binds. Yes. He will find it. He will find some way to discover why the two Captains are suddenly so close.

Of course, it doesn't occur to poor Rory that this is -not- the way he would normally react in this situation. No. He is not the type to latch onto some innocent action, touch, or word and become obsessed and angered by it. He has never been like that. But he is now. In spades! Add to that, the fact that he has seen this behavior in others before, specifically Amelia Pond and Gwen Cooper, why can't he recognize it in himself? Well, it is often said we cannot see what is right in front of our faces, so maybe that is why. 

Either way, he is seized by a near impossible, irrational anger that he simply can't understand. All because of one simple word. A single word that is generic, used by many people as little more than a placeholder so they don't always have to use a name. Hell, waitresses across the world used it to endear customers left and right. So then, why does it leave him seeing red in some ways??

It takes a moment for him to realize that he's back in his lab, settled at his desk. That he's staring a hole in the poor, inanimate object as he struggles to understand his own mind. Since his return from Rome, since he was forced to readjust everything about himself to be able to function on a 'modern' level, his own mind has been a near foreign entity. How strange is that!? He cannot even gaze into his own MIND and find an inkling of understanding about himself at this point. And yet, he thinks he has what it takes to help save the world? To be a member of a super team??

Yeah, actually, he does. Because he's done it before. In Cardiff, Wales. In the Hub buried beneath the city that housed Torchwood. Sure, their threats weren't as well known as the things the Avengers go against, and aren't as big or anything, but they were just as menacing and posed just as big a global threat. In some ways, Rory could say they were far more effective than the Avengers. They stopped things before they became known world wide. Though, he is in no way disparaging what the Avengers do! His respect for them runs deep, as it does for all of those that put their lives on the line to save those that cannot save themselves. 

He blinks rapidly, clearing his vision though he knows that he doesn't need to. Or, well, he doesn't know much of anything at the moment, actually. Just that he's tired, developing one hell of a wicked headache, and he's pretty sure that this team of heroes will play merry hob with his sanity. Which seems to be hanging by a thread these days. Most of it obliterated by his association with Jack, though he doesn't blame the Captain for the fact. It's his own fault, a fate he chose for himself. And even now, he knows he wouldn't change it. 

"Bastard." He huffs the word, breathing it through his nose, expelling it as a tired, inevitable admission. Because it is inevitable. The one thing he and Jack have never done with one another, is lie. They don't sugar coat the truths and hope for the best. They have been open with each other from the beginning, and he's got to think that -counts- for something. Even here. Now. When the situation is so vastly different than the one they came from. 

"Wow, Doc. Gotta say, didn't really take you for the sit and brood type." The cocksure voice of Tony Stark rouses Rory from his reflections, and he curses inwardly at his stupidity. True, there isn't any known danger here, nothing he is supposed to have to worry about, but still ... he is -never- the type to so fully drop his guard as to be taken this unawares. So much so that his arms jerk at his sides when he realizes that someone has managed to walk into his 'domain' without him taking any notice. He can almost hear Jack's sneer in the back of his mind and he has to fight to keep from verbally telling it to shut the fuck up. 

"So, then, just what -did- you take me for, Mr. Stark?" Rory queries, pushing himself to a standing position so that he can turn and face the billionaire playboy that rubs him the wrong way. He lets his backside come to rest against the counter, his arms crossing casually in front of his chest as he stares the other man down.

"Honestly?" Tony asks the question in a voice that suggests he's not going to stop. Not going to actually pause and give Rory time to answer. It is a rhetorical question. "A superfluous waste. A glorified nurse allowed into the field because it was the only way to get your Boss to come, too." Rory stiffens where he stands, his hands gripping at his biceps tightly. To keep from reaching out and punching the asshole right there and then. Or more. Fuck it, probably a hell of a lot -more-. Maim him. Smash in his handsome face, wipe the smug know-it-all look off of him once and for all. He has no right to, he knows. But the billionaire asshole has reached right into Rory and pressed the biggest button in him. The one that was created because of Amy, and everyone that defined -him- by -her-. 

".. I assume you came here for reasons beyond this display?" Rory drawls out, his arms falling away from his chest as he continues to stare down the other man. Not budging. Not raging. Basically not giving a fuck that the arrogant man is trying to bait him into .. whatever he's trying to bait him into. 

"Well, of course I did. Berating you would be much better with a crowd, after all. I don't really get anything by dissing you in private, Doc." The sassy superhero smirks as he delivers this piece of 'obvious' information. He strolls closer to the Englishman, the smirk rubbing Rory the wrong way. Though, again, he doesn't let any of this show through.

"By all means, take your sweet time, sir." He mutters, turning after a moment to grab the files he still needed to get through. The moment he stops paying attention to the arrogant man, Stark finds himself bristling. What the hell, man!? He had insulted him several times over, insinuated from the first moment they met, that the nurse was worthless, and now he can't even be bothered to give Stark his full attention? The hell!? 

"I had Jarvis look into you and the illustrious Captain." Stark tries to sound offhand about this, but Rory can see right through him. The Ex-Centurion can practically feel the arrogant need to be recognized oozing from the asshole, so he chooses not to bother. After all, more than one can play this childish game. "I was a bit surprised to find that there is no record of the man currently calling himself Captain Jack Harkness. The only record belonged to an American soldier killed during the war years ago. So, it can't be the same guy. And, of course, Torchwood has no hackable files, so Jarvis couldn't find any information on him there. That intrigues me. He's a hell of an enigma ..... I don't -like- enigmas." Rory can't help but snort suddenly, turning his amused gaze back toward Stark.

"Well, I wouldn't count on the Captain giving a damn what you do or don't like. Nor would I suggest you ask him about it. Far better men and women have humbled themselves to find out about his past, and he denied them all. No way is a swaggering ass like you going to get anything out of him." Rory laughs jubilantly at the thought of Stark trying. Man, he'd almost pay to see that! To watch Captain Jack laugh in Stark's face. Probably one of the only people that would never fall to Stark's richman demands. 

"Oh, well, I love a challenge. I'll have the information out of him by the weekend." Rory blinks in surprise, and then bursts out laughing so hard he's afraid he's going to knock himself flat on his arse. 

"Oh .. my god .... you're more of an idiot .. than ... I first .. gave ... you credit ... for ...!" He reaches up to press his palms to his eyes, wiping away tears from how hard the thought makes him out and out laugh. "Oh man, I needed that, Mr. Stark. Arrogant delusions of grandeur always give me the best laughs." He grins and turns to finish up the last file. Closing it and walking to shove it into the filing cabinet. He misses the red faced glower Stark gives him, hands shaking in fists at his sides. 

"Happy to oblige, Mr. Williams." Stark grits the words out between clenched teeth, before he forces his fists to unfurl. He carefully reaches up to adjust his tie, giving himself a moment to calm down a little more. "You, on the other hand, Mr. Williams .... Jarvis found an abundance of information on you." Stark feels himself sliding back into familiar territory when Rory's shoulders stiffen and square. The kind of telegraphed movement that suggests a man is getting ready to fight. Verbally or physically, he isn't sure. But Rory is definitely getting ready to fight if need be.

"A nerd in school, best friends with a fiery redhead, bullied for the belief of being gay." Stark smirks as he lists off the things he had read about the medic. After a moment, he walks over and hops up on the counter, arms crossed as he watches Rory for any kind of reaction. "Eventually got engaged to his high school sweetheart, so the bullying was unfounded. Smart enough to qualify as a Doctor, but either too lazy, or too stupid, to be anything more than a nurse." Rory's hands tighten into fists at his sides, his teeth grinding together as he struggles to keep a hold on his temper.

"Lets see, what else .. oh, right! Deserted your fiance, left the hospital you were working at in the lurch when you up and left out of nowhere. As flaky as your Dad, apparently. Missing three years before you popped up in Cardiff, Wales, and began working for the mysterious Torchwood Institute. Approached by Fury in connection with Captain Jack Harkness who negotiated a field position for you. So ... too useless to be hired on your own merit, huh?" Stark sneers elegantly, and Rory huffs a deep, silent breath. Reminds himself that if he turns and kills the mouthy son of a bitch, the Avengers would be down one hero, even if he is a fucking asshole so full of himself. He turns slowly, a shark-like grin hardening his features.

"Well, you can memorize a bunch of surface information, I'll give you that, Stark. And at least your AI is a capable researcher. I'm sure you wouldn't have found a third of that information on your own. But hey, I'm sure your gadgets are a great contribution to the Avengers. You're lucky they don't boot your ass out and just keep your suit. At's not as if you bring much else to the table, hmm?" Stark blanches before his features fill with the flush of anger. When he opens his mouth, Rory's hand snaps up to silence him.

"Yes, I was approached at the same time Jack was, but not -because- of Jack. Nor did he 'negotiate' anything. So, I guess your computer is just as mistaken as you, dear. But then, worthless tends to create worthless, yeah? Fury came looking for us both, not one because of the other, because not all of us are defined by others. I wonder, if your Dad hadn't known Agent Carter, would you have -ever- been considered for the Avengers? I guess there are worst things than piggybacking on Daddy dears talent." Rory sneers those words, watching Stark's mouth open and close like a desperate fish. "But, I digress. See, I will go ahead and clear up one little matter for you, though it's none of your fucking business in the first place." Rory turns and heads toward the door, yanking it open before he turns to look back at Stark. Cold, dark eyes staring the man down again. 

"Yeah, I disappeared for three years, left work and Amelia in the lurch. Because I was swept up in a Temporal Storm that ripped me back through time and space, deposited me in the middle of Caesar's war with the Picts and Gauls. What was three years on this side, was -EIGHTEEN- on my side. I had to survive in a primitive time, in the middle of a fucking war. You .. you couldn't go a week without the modern tech you depend so desperately on. Let alone be able to keep from altering history irrevocably." When he realizes that Stark is preparing to find his voice again, he speaks quicker.

"In Caesar's army, I managed to rise in the ranks. Spent most of my time as a Centurion, until I finally reached the rank of Tribune. Again, you wouldn't have lasted a week in that time, so don't even start. When I got back, swept up into another Temporal Storm, I realized that three years had passed, and I had been rescued from drowning by Torchwood. And yeah, I stayed in Cardiff ... because Amelia, my dear sweet fiance, married less than three months after I disappeared, which means she was probably cheating on me. Again." He snarls the word again, turning away from Stark.

"So, the next time you want to swagger in here like you know everything in the entire fucking world, make sure you have even a single speck of true understanding." He turns back, looking over his shoulder with a bit of a smirk at the Superhero. "See, in the end, I don't give a damn what you think about me, Mr. Stark. Why would I? You're a whiny, arrogant idiot that doesn't have the first clue about the big bad world outside of your own little circle. You may save the world, you may be a hero, but we both know you're nothing more than a poser. You're just waiting for the day the rest of the team wake up and realize that beyond your pathetic suit, you are a superfluous waste. Waiting for the day Ms. Potts gets tired of your shallow nature and sees the truth; that no matter what happens, you will NEVER change. Never become a better man. Ta." Rory flashes him a cold smile and exits the lab, feeling the anger and embarrassment radiating off of Stark, who remains sitting on the counter top as if glued to it.

* * *

No sooner is he a safe distance from the lab, than he rounds and punches a wall. Wincing as the shockwave of pain shoots up his arm and into his shoulder. He bites at the inside of his cheek until the rusted tang of copper fills his mouth. He turns, shoves his back against the wall and leans heavily there. Barely able to keep himself upright at this point.

Stark hit the sorest of sore points with the Ex-Centurion. The definition of self. Too long he was defined by everything -but- himself. Sexuality, Amy, occupation, rank, Rifter .... so many titles, and NONE of them were the true core of his being. Now that he has finally managed to eek out an existence based on nothing more than his own merit, and Stark nearly destroys all of his confidence with a few well placed barbs.

Deity, he wants nothing more than to turn around, walk right back into the labs and strangle the life out of that son of a bitch. With his bare hands. Speaking of which ... he winces faintly as he lifts his hand and inspects it. Thankfully that he managed not to break any of his knuckles, fingers, wrist, etc. How he managed that, is beyond him. A damn miracle, actually, but he pushes those thoughts aside. He flexes his fingers and sighs. They will swell, be sore, and hurt like hell, but no broken bones is very, very good. The pain will serve as a reminder that he foolishly lost his temper and did something so stupid.

After a few more moments struggling to cool his temper, he pushes himself away from the wall and stalks from the area. He hasn't the first clue which direction he wishes to go in, where he hopes to end up, but isn't that surprised when he finds himself in the heart of the offices once more. This time, he's not trying to escape, not looking for anyone in particular, but again, not the least bit surprised when he ends up at Mr. Barton's office. He is, however, completely taken aback when he experiences a moment of disappointment when he finds the office empty. Why should he care? It's not as if he had any chance of becoming friends with those he works with. He has never been good at doing that. 

His cohort thought him approachable enough, but most of those willing to be friendly, had ulterior motives. Namely, the hopes of advancement through friendship rather than earning it. The team at Torchwood were not the friendliest, unless, again, they expected something in return. Growing up, he only had Amy and Mel. Neither of which ended well. 

In truth, the only person he can consider a friend at the moment, is Jack, but that doesn't count. Not really. He mutter indecipherably, running his fingers through his hair momentarily before he turns. And nearly runs right into Jack. Who is standing there, arms crossed in front of him, features unreadable as he scrutinizes Rory.

"If you're looking for Barton, he ain't here. Last I saw him, he was heading toward Natasha's office." There is a certain sense of smug satisfaction in Jack's words, and Rory hasn't the first clue how to take it. How to read it. What to do with it. He feels ... as if he's treading through a minefield. As if, at any moment, he's going to make a wrong step and be blown away. He doesn't like feeling like this, and he wonders if it's his own doing.

"Right, well. Thanks for that, Jack. I'll look him up a bit later, then." Rory offers a tired smile to his ex-Boss and makes to sidestep him. Only to feel a warm hand grab him gently at the shoulder.

"Heads up, soldier-boy. Stark has been looking for you, and I doubt he has anything kind or light hearted on his mind." Rory flinches, the memory of Stark's biting, venomous words come tumbling back into his mind, and he shrinks away from Jack a little bit. Causing the Captain to look concerned, worried even. "What happened, Ror?" Jack's use of the shortened name takes Rory by surprise, and he sags a little under Jack's touch.

"Yeah, he already found me. Viperous bastard had quite a lot to say about my character as he supposedly understands it." Rory reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose. The action causes him to miss the look of unbridled anger that darkens Jack's features before the Captain has turned away from him.

"Ahh. Well, I'll see you later, soldier-boy." He grunts the words, taking off at a quick pace of flowing greatcoat and vengeful frown, though Rory misses the frown. He quirks a brow, wondering what that was all about, but dismisses the thought for now. If there's one thing he knows, it's stay out of Jack's way when he's acting ... odd. With a sigh, he turns and heads back toward his labs, figuring it's probably safe now.

* * *

Rory was blessed enough to arrive in the labs and find them free of Stark or anyone else that might further sour his already ruined mood. The run-in with Jack had alleviated some of the mental pain he felt, but not all of it. He is trying so damn hard not to wallow in his emotions, but it's hard to pull himself up, above the raging waters of negativity. This fact fuels his dislike of Stark even more.

And yet, by some miracle, the rest of the afternoon passes without incident! Rory makes notes on the Avenger files, based on the tests and observations of the day, and gets them all filed away. From there, he takes off is smock and pulls on his simple, threadbare brown jacket. 

When he emerges from HQ, he takes a deep, steady breath ... holds it .. and then exhales slowly. It feels as if a heavy weight has lifted from his shoulders.

"Mr. Williams." And just like that, the weight falls back down on him, multiplies by a hundred. Stark. He turns in the direction that the billionaire comes swaggering from. The man looks .. ashen faced. Hell, he looks down right repentant, and that immediately puts Rory in edge. "Good, I'm glad I managed to catch you before you left." Rory quirks a brow, watching in stony silence as Stark seems to squirm on the spot. Fixes his tie, fidgets, and looks around a few times. "I think I owe you an apology. I had time to think, after you left ..." Yeah, by time to think, he means Jack Harkness found him, ported him dozens of centuries into the future and threatened to leave him on a dying planet if he didn't apologize for what he had said to the Ex-Centurion. Though, neither Jack or Stark were about to cop to the fact such things had happened. "... and I was harsh and unfair with my words. You'll probably never get another apology from me again, so savor it, kid." With that, Stark does a quick about face and rushes off, wincing faintly when he passes the Immortal. Who smirks darkly in Ironman's direction, before he continues on toward Rory.

"Hello, soldier-boy. So, officially off duty for the day?" He flashes his best dimpled grin, practically beaming at the man as he stops in front of him.

"That I am, Captain." Now that the workday is over, now that he can rest and relax, he flashes his own sweet, boyish grin. His tone has improved, becoming warm and happy as he watches the older man. "Bit of an odd day, but no worse than Torchwood." He smirks when Jack groans at the T word, the Immortal rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, soldier-boy." Jack grumbles, though he's still smiling. "Well, if the day is down, how about --"

"Excuse me, Doc?" Hawkeye's voice cuts off whatever Jack had been about to say, and he and Rory turn to face the red-faced, grinning man as he approaches.

"Mr. Barton. I told you, I'm not a doctor, so Doc doesn't really apply." Though the words are reproachful, Rory delivers them with a friendly grin, that seems to make Hawkeye go even redder in the face. Jack's jaws grit closed tightly as he silently watches the exchange.

"Er, right, sorry about that, Rory. And hey, just call me Clint, yeah?" When Rory nods his consent, Hawkeye's grin grows into a beaming smile that makes Rory blush ever so slightly. Though he's not sure why. "Great. Right. Uhm, I was wondering, Rory .. maybe .. would you like to ..." Hawkeye shifts a little where he stands, trying to understand why asking something so simple, is so hard. "Maybe we could go grab a drink? I wouldn't mind talking some more." Oh, that's why Rory was blushing! On some level, he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Oh, right. Uhm, thank you, Clint, but --"

"Excuse me!" Now it is Rory who's cut off, Steve Rogers jogging over to the group with a bit of a shy smile on his face. Hawkeye groans ever so softly at the interruption, wondering if Steve was there because of Rory, too. But, when Steve turns his shy, all American smile on Captain Jack, Hawkeye relaxes a little. "Captain Harkness, I was wondering if I could impose on your time a bit? I'm hoping we could talk some more about earlier." Rory and Jack glance at each other, both wearing identical blushes, before they turn back toward Clint and Steve. Jack clears his throat, and reaches down to grab Rory's hand, grinning.

"Erm, listen guys, I think you both may have gotten the wrong idea about something ..." Jack tries to ease the two into what they're about to say, but he doesn't get the chance. Black Widow comes walking past them, smirking at the four men.

"Am I the only one that actually read the memo about those two? You do both realize Jack and Rory are married, right?" Natasha points out with an arrogant little shake of her head as she continues working. Steve and Clint stare, open mouthed, at the two men who nod slowly. And sure enough, when they bother to look down, they see simple, matching gold bands on their left ring fingers. And both feel so stupid, they wish they could turn, run, and hide!!

"Wait ..." Clint begins.

"What??" Steve finishes, both looking so very confused. 

"So, the guy you ... were telling me about earlier .. wasn't Owen, it was Jack??" Clint questions, earning a surprised glance from Jack, which then turns into a bit of a glare. 

"Hey, now! Owen never got within ten feet of Rory, or I'd have made him regret it." Just like he made Stark regret it. Rory leans toward Jack, grinning like a fool in love. Cause, you know, he is. 

"Yeah, I was talking about Jack, not Owen. Me and Owen never really got along." Rory looks sad when he admits that, Jack shifting to loop his arm reassuringly around his husband's shoulders, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry if you both got the wrong idea in all of this. while Jack and I might differ on work relationships, it doesn't change the fact that he and I are wed." Jack grins lightly, nodding.

Though, in thinking about it, it made a lot of sense as far as some of the stories both men had heard about the other two. The way Jak ahd saved food for Rory, had slipped his revolver to the other man when he was examining Dr. Banner. Or, the fact that Rory had gotten angry with Thor, the fact that others believed Rory might be the only one that could calm Jack down. Yeah, in hindsight, it seemed rather obvious.

"Right. Well, have a good night, gentlemen." Steve nods stiffly to them both before turning and leaving quickly.

"Night, guys." Clint smiles faintly, though he turns and makes the same quick exit, leaving Rory and Jack alone.

"Wow. So, wasn't really expecting that." Rory admits, blushing profusely as he curls into his husband. Jack just grins, turning to lead Rory away from work.

"Me, neither. I figured they knew. Come on, soldier-boy. Lets head home."

* * *

FIN.


End file.
